The Last Watchers
by abitweird
Summary: When a strange transmission draws the Enterprise into a previously uncharted star system, Archer, Reed and Trip unwittingly release a powerful alien entity. When the entity turns its attentions on Reed, Archer must decide whether or not its intentions are harmful, even as the crew try to find out more about the mysterious, ancient species. Rated for some swearing and hurt/comfort.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: When a strange transmission draws the Enterprise into a previously uncharted star system, Archer, Reed and Trip unwittingly release a powerful alien entity. When the entity turns its attentions on Reed, Archer must decide whether its intentions are harmful even as the crew try to find out more about the mysterious, ancient species.

* * *

"Captain, I'm picking up a transmission..." Ensign Hoshi Sato spoke up suddenly, causing all heads on the bridge to turn slightly in her direction, "it's very strange; I'm having difficulty isolating the frequency."

"Put it on speaker," Captain Jonathan Archer's curiosity was immediately aroused, "any ships in the vicinity, T'Pol?"

"I am not detecting any vessels on long range sensors, Captain," the Vulcan officer replied, smoothly, "however; there is a system of sixteen planetary bodies in orbit around a single star at the extreme edge of sensor range. The transmission may originate there."

Archer nodded in acknowledgement as Hoshi patched the signal through to the bridge speakers; it was awash with static, but faint words could be made out in a strange, clicking, alien tongue.

"Translation?" Archer prompted.

"I'm sorry sir, there isn't enough there to translate," Hoshi shook her head, "it's the same few words, spoken over and over again. It could be an automated distress beacon... there's nothing like it in my database. I'll keep trying though, sir."

Hoshi cut off the transmission as Archer turned to look at T'Pol, asking; "can we get a fix on the signal?"

"I am locating it now, captain," she responded, her slender fingers moving with practiced efficiency across her console, "the signal appears to be emanating from the equatorial region of the fourth planet of the system. I am sending the co-ordinates to Ensign Mayweather."

"Lay in a course, Travis," Archer ordered, with a quick smile, "we're in uncharted space, let's check out the neighbourhood. Increase speed to Warp 3 – if that is a distress signal we'd better see if we can offer some help."

"Aye aye, sir," Mayweather nodded, and a minute tremor ran through the ship as the _Enterprise_ accelerated obediently under her pilot's steady hand, "we should be there in approximately 30 minutes."

Archer drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. It was at times like this that he felt more than a little superfluous; to his left, Hoshi Sato was engrossed in transcribing and translating the strange alien signal, listening to the repeated message over and over again in the hopes of gleaning some spark of understanding from the unfamiliar tongue. T'Pol was scanning and mapping the new star system, no doubt testing the full range of the ship's sensors and data-gathering capacities, adding the newly-discovered system to their ever-expanding star charts. Travis Mayweather was giving the navigational controls the full force of his concentration, guiding the elegant starship ever closer to their latest discovery. To Archer's right, Lt. Malcolm Reed, tactical officer, was similarly focussed, carrying out extensive scans of his own, searching for ships, life signs and potential threats to the safety of the _Enterprise_ and her crew. Archer's mind wandered as he considered what they might find on this new planet – he hoped for a race of friendly, sociable people, who would welcome the _Enterprise_ with open arms and share in new cultural experiences. Hopefully, the strange transmission that was drawing them ever closer was a simple invitation to a good lunch. Archer hid a small smile at his own optimism.

Eventually, Travis gave a small nod of satisfaction, and spoke up; "we're entering orbit of the fourth planet now, captain."

"On screen," Archer said, as everyone turned to see the viewer.

When the screen activated, Archer could not suppress the small thrill of excitement he always felt when seeing a new planet for the first time. However, the excitement was tempered by a shiver of ominous doubt. The planetoid was a large, dark grey sphere. Even from orbit, Archer could see the constantly roiling clouds and flashes of lighting that indicated some fairly serious storms were raging around the equatorial regions of the planet.

"Can we get a fix on the signal from here, Hoshi?" Archer asked, glancing across at the communications officer.

"I can't get an exact fix, captain," Hoshi sounded equally apologetic and frustrated at the same time; "there's too much interference."

"Captain," T'Pol's calm tone cut in, "there are significant electrical storms on the planet's surface that are interfering with our sensors. I have isolated the location of the signal to an area of approximately thirty square kilometres but it will be impossible to get an exact location without entering the atmosphere. I am also unable to scan for life signs or indications of civilisation."

"A shuttlepod?" Archer suggested.

"Affirmative," T'Pol inclined her head slightly, "the sensors on a shuttlepod should be adequate to locate the source of the signal and enable further investigation. However, the storms on the surface will make piloting extremely difficult."

"There's a lot of atmospheric disturbance, Captain," Mayweather agreed, "I'm getting some strange gravitational fluctuations as well. I'm having difficulty maintaining a standard orbit."

"Increase our distance from the planet and hold position," Archer ordered, "Travis, I want you to stay here and helm the _Enterprise_ in case of further difficulties. Use your discretion. Malcolm, you're probably our next best pilot; think you can handle those storms?"

"The electrical discharges are strong, Captain, but the hull plating of the shuttlepod should be able to withstand it," Reed nodded, confidently, "as long as we aren't flying in the atmosphere for too long we should be safe."

"Great," Archer nodded, "have Trip meet us in the shuttle bay, just in case we do run into technical problems. Hoshi, concentrate on translating that message. If we run into any locals we'll transmit more speech to you if we can; we'll need to be able to talk to them. T'Pol, you have the con."

Satisfied that his orders were clear, Archer swiftly got to his feet and entered the turbolift, closely followed by Reed. His initial doubts forgotten, Archer was already looking forward to setting foot on another planet.

* * *

The shuttlepod journey, however, turned out to be anything but pleasant. Reed sat at the controls, with Archer behind him to his right and Charles "Trip" Tucker, Chief Engineer, behind him to his left.

"Strap yourselves in, gentlemen," Reed advised, as he began the approach to the atmosphere, "this is going to be rough."

This proved to be an understatement; from the moment the small craft entered the atmosphere the buffeting began and it only got worse the further they descended. The visibility was virtually nil, as they navigated the thick, roiling storm clouds. Howling winds battered the craft from side to side, while flashes of lightning crashed around them, occasionally lighting up the shuttle interior with stark contrasts. Both Trip and Archer hung onto their restraints, occasionally giving each other worried glances. Reed focussed on the controls, gritting his teeth as he fought to keep the shuttlepod steady and on course, all the while scanning for the source of the mysterious signal that may or may not have been a cry for help.

"Have you got a fix on the signal yet?" Archer asked, having to raise his voice to be heard slightly over the noise of the storm outside.

"Negative, captain," Reed shook his head, not taking his eyes off the console, "the electromagnetic interference in the atmosphere is much stronger than previously indicated by the scanners on the _Enterprise_ – I am closing in on the co-ordinates Sub-Commander T'Pol provided but the frequency of the signal is still weak."

"It looks like the storm's getting worse the closer we get to the surface!" Archer commented, "Can the shuttlepod take it?"

"Let's hope so!" Trip called back, grimly, "the hull casing is pretty tough on these things – I'm not worried about impact damage, but if we get too many electromagnetic surges, we could blow out all of our systems!"

As if to emphasise his point, the lighting in the shuttle flickered briefly and then settled, albeit dimmer than it had been. Archer shot Trip a questioning glance.

"Probably a bit of power loss," the engineer replied, with a shrug, "the engines are working overtime just to keep us airborne..."

"Captain," Reed's voice cut into the conversation, "I think I've got a fix on the signal – we're getting closer, at any rate. I'm still not picking up any life signs though – it could just be an automated beacon. I don't think there's anyone down there."

"Drop below the clouds and see if you can find somewhere to set us down. We're here now, we might as well check it out," Archer decided, "if there really is nobody here then we might as well at least shut off the beacon to stop anyone else coming down."

"Yes sir," Reed nodded resolutely, and Archer felt the shuttlepod begin the drop.

The whole craft was bucking and shuddering but to Reed's credit it held steady, and as they broke through the clouds, Archer got his first glimpse of this strange new planet. The thick grey clouds had concealed a landscape that was even greyer than the skies. It looked like a primordial swamp; areas of wetland punctuated by rocks and a few scrubby trees. Below the clouds the winds had let up slightly, but still buffeted the tiny craft. Archer noticed strange patches of grey mist occasionally drifting across the murky surface, stirred around and dissipated by the wind as quickly as they appeared.

"I've located a suitable landing site," Reed said, his hands dancing across the controls, "I'd hold on tight though – this won't be very smooth, I'm afraid."

"Any landing you walk away from..." Trip muttered.

Archer flashed a grim smile, tightening his grip on his restraints. Reed brought the shuttlepod into landing position, hovering over the patch of ground he had selected. Archer could feel the vibrations running through the craft from the atmospheric turmoil, and he could hear the high-pitched whine of the engines as they were pushed to maximum to compensate. Glancing at Reed, he could see the tight set of the lieutenant's jaw and the frown of concentration as he worked to slowly lower the craft to the ground. A flash of lighting blinded them all for one moment, there was a sudden, jarring thud, and then the engine noise cut out.

"We're down, sir," Reed's voice was soft, with a subtle hint of relief.

"Well done, Malcolm," Archer clapped him on the shoulder as he released his restraints and stood up, "come on, let's take a look around..."

"Cap'n," Trip stood up and stretched, "I'd love the exercise, but I think I'd best stay here and give the shuttle a once-over. I've no complaints about the landing but I'd best check there's no system damage from flying through that storm."

"Good thinking, Trip," Archer nodded, "stay with the shuttle and check it over – signal _Enterprise_ , tell them we've made it and ask for them to standby. Malcolm, you're with me, we'll see if we can find the source of that signal. We'll check in with you later, Trip."

With nods and affirmative noises, the three men quickly set about their tasks. Trip was already grabbing his tools as Archer and Reed slipped on their thicker jackets, armed themselves with phasers and tricorders, and stepped out into the storm.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as the shuttle door opened, Archer felt the cold wind whip around him, stealing his breath away and bringing tears to his eyes. For some reason, he had not expected it to be so cold on this marshy planet. He turned around and closed the shuttlepod, affording Trip shelter against the elements while he worked, as Reed took out his scanner and tapped a few keys. Archer eyed the damp, grey, cold terrain apprehensively – his normal enthusiasm for exploration had waned slightly in the face of the adverse conditions. He reminded himself that not all planets could be balmy paradises, and decided to simply hope that there would be something of interest here that would make the journey worthwhile.

"I'm picking up the signal again, captain," Reed's voice interrupted his thoughts and Archer turned towards the tactical officer expectantly, "it's coming from this direction..."

"Lead on, Malcolm," Archer gestured for him to go first, "watch your footing, though – this terrain looks bad."

Truer words had never been spoken – the ground underfoot was rough, a mixture of sharp rock and soft mosses, which proved treacherous as the two men attempted to negotiate their way towards their elusive goal. They frequently slipped and stumbled, often plunging inadvertently into muddy, marshy patches, steadying each other as Reed attempted to guide them around the worst of the obstacles in their path.

"How far, Malcolm?" Archer asked, eventually, pausing to catch his breath.

They had been walking for about forty minutes and had left the shuttle far behind, though by Archer's reckoning they had not covered much distance given the hard going.

"Not far, sir," Reed assured him, wiping a muddy hand down his trouser leg before consulting the tricorder again, and gesturing a little to his left, "this way."

Archer nodded and followed accordingly. The ground seemed to be getting slightly harder, with fewer mud patches, for which he was grateful. The sparse trees were beginning to thicken, giving Archer the impression that they were leaving behind something resembling a shore line to enter into a forest. It was also getting darker as the trees cut out what little light penetrated the thick layer of cloud cover. Lighting continued to flash as the wind howled around them. Archer switched on his torch, its light a welcoming beam in the darkening grey world. Reed copied his example, torch in his left hand and tricorder in his right hand as he continued to follow the signal.

After a few more long minutes, they entered a small clearing in the dense trees, and both men paused for a moment to survey their surroundings in surprise. The ground had been paved in a smooth, white stone, like opalescent marble. Although vines and creepers had long since overgrown the paving, the stone beneath still shone white, a stark, bright contrast to the otherwise brown and grey landscape. Around the edges of the clearing, eleven tall stones stood erect, roughly conical in shape, tapering to points reaching up into the sky. The stones were all different heights, ranging from around four feet to over twenty feet in height. They were made of the same strange white stone, and to Archer, they looked like weird skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. A twelfth stone, obviously unable to withstand the elements as well as its comrades, had fallen to the ground and shattered into several pieces. In the centre of the perfect circle stood a dull, metallic column, overgrown with weeds and debris.

"This appears to be the source of the signal, captain," Reed gestured with his tricorder as he approached the column, "I can't see any sort of interface, but there appear to be carvings around the edges..."

Reed placed his torch on the ground and began to brush aside the creepers that had tangled themselves around the odd column. Archer, too, began to pull away the plant growth, revealing the alien symbols that were carved into the surface. He ran his fingers gently over the letters, feeling the rough stone surface that had pitted with age. The whole area felt somehow ancient, despite the primordial appearance of the rest of the planet. Archer was suddenly struck that this might be the last remnants of a technologically advanced species, and wondered at the age of the artefacts surrounding them.

"I'm taking a visual scan of the carvings," Reed muttered, using the scanner to take a video image recording, "perhaps we can transmit them to Hoshi when we get back to the shuttle... she might be able to translate it."

"I think we need to find a way to shut off the signal," Archer said, by way of agreement, "if it was a distress signal, it's pretty obvious whoever sent it has long since gone..."

Reed made a noise of agreement, as Archer wandered around the circle of standing stones, suppressing a small shiver of cold. An odd sensation was settling over him; the stones stood imposingly above him and he suddenly felt like he was a trespasser in a sacred tomb. As if to emphasise his point, something in the tree line caught his eye, and he crouched down to take a closer look.

"Malcolm – take a look at this..."

"Sir?"

Reed crossed over obediently, picking up his torch and joining Archer to peer into the undergrowth. Empty eye sockets stared back at them, hollow and unseeing. The skull was certainly alien but recognisably humanoid, with prominent nasal ridges, large, front-facing eye sockets and a slightly beak-like jaw, with no recognisable teeth.

"It looks almost bird-like," Reed commented, and Archer had to agree, "whatever it was, it's been here a very long time, captain."

"It doesn't look like there's anyone here to rescue," Archer sighed, straightening up again, as he pulled out his communicator, "Archer to _Enterprise_ , come in please."

Expecting a prompt response, Archer frowned slightly when he was met only with static. He tapped the communicator to boost the signal and tried again; " _Enterprise_ , this is captain Archer, please respond."

"Strange," Reed shook his head, holding up his scanner, "the electromagnetic disturbances seem to be increasing, and it's blocking our transmission..."

"Perhaps if I can raise Trip he can use the shuttlepod systems to..." Archer was suddenly cut off by a low but distinct humming noise.

Baffled, he glanced around, seeing Reed doing the same. It seemed that they both identified the source of the sound at the same time; the column at the centre of the stone circle. Archer felt a small but distinct vibration run through the stone beneath his feet and he glanced across at Reed, who was consulting his tricorder.

"What's happening?" Archer called; the humming noise was getting louder, as the vibrations increased.

"I don't know, sir!" Reed had to shout to be heard; the wind was picking up as well, howling around the clearing and whipping the trees into a frenzy, "I'm reading a massive build up of electromagnetic power from somewhere, but I can't identify what's generating it! Our scans may have triggered it – I suggest we leave, sir, quickly!"

A flash of lightning lit the clearing, and then another, and a third, all in quick succession. Blinded by the light, deafened by the noise and stunned by the wind, Archer reeled around and shouted; "We need to get back to the shuttle!"

As he spoke, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stand on end; the air suddenly felt thick and heavy, as if charged with static electricity.

"Captain! The stones! Look!" Reed cried out, his voice almost lost to the screaming wind.

Archer looked up. The stones were visibly vibrating, trembling, as if trying to shake themselves free of the very ground they were rooted into. The effort proved too much for the largest of the stones, which, with a loud crack that was barely audible over the wind, it broke in two. A large piece slipped from the top of the stone and toppled towards the ground. Reed had to fling himself aside as the stone shattered on the ground, debris skittering across the shaking ground. Archer ran to his tactical officer, helping him to stand.

"I'm fine, captain!" Reed assured him, "We need to get out of-!"

He was cut off by what could only be described as an explosion. The humming noise reached a crescendo, and the column in the centre of the stone circle simply cracked and splintered into thousands of pieces, releasing a wave of blue light and energy. Archer was aware only of a blinding light, followed by the impact of a shockwave that threw him backwards, and everything went white.

* * *

As the light faded, Archer slowly raised his head. The wind was still whistling through the trees and the air was icy cold, but it was no longer at the storm force it had been a few minutes ago. The strange column was gone, the debris scattered across the floor, the mysterious runes lost forever, save for the recordings Reed had taken for Hoshi... Reed...!

"Malcolm!" Archer exclaimed, glancing around.

His eyes fell on the tactical officer, lying face down on the ground. Archer hurried to his side, relieved to see the other man was moving, and still conscious, though apparently winded.

"Are you alright?" Archer asked, concerned, as he helped Reed to stand.

"I'm fine, sir," Reed replied, though a slight tremor in his voice belied his words, "what... what was that?"

"I don't know," Archer admitted, taking out his tricorder, "it could have been triggered by our scans of the column, a defence mechanism maybe... damn – my tricorder's fried! Try yours."

Reed obeyed, but shook his head; "It's dead, sir. If I had to guess I'd say we just experienced a massive surge of electromagnetic energy. I wouldn't be surprised if it was the result of a small radioactive discharge..."

"Which means we need to get back to the ship ASAP," Archer replied, grimly, "if we've been exposed to that much radiation... we need to get back to the shuttle. The emergency supplies on board will be treatment enough until we can get back to _Enterprise_..."

As he spoke, he took out his communicator to alert the ship to expect them, but let out a grunt of frustration when he realised the electromagnetic pulse had destroyed their communicators as well, which also meant their phasers would be inoperable.

"We'll just have to walk back to the shuttle," Archer sighed, putting the ineffective device back in his pocket, "can you remember the route without the tricorder?"

"Yes, sir," Reed nodded, confidently, "in this marshy ground it should be easy enough to follow our own tracks back along the route we came."

"In that case, let's go," Archer said, decisively, "I doubt the signal is transmitting any more but we won't learn anything else without our scanners and we need to go through decontamination procedures as soon as possible."

Reed nodded his agreement and, glancing down at the ground, he began to lead the way back to the shuttlepod. As they turned away, neither of the Starfleet officers observed the shimmering white smoke that began to rise from the fissure left behind by the destruction of the alien column.


	3. Chapter 3

The long, hard trek back to the shuttlepod felt even longer and harder than their journey outwards had been. Archer wondered how much of this sensation was due to exhaustion or possibly the results of exposure to unknown radiation. He wondered several times if they were going in the right direction, but each time he asked aloud, Reed would point out a footprint, or a broken branch, or a slightly flattened area of moss, which showed the evidence of their journey towards the beacon that had summoned them to this alien landscape. Archer lost all concept of time; even his wristwatch was no longer working. After a long time, an ice-age perhaps, Reed suddenly stumbled and fell, sprawling awkwardly onto the muddy ground. Archer said nothing; both of them had similarly fallen several times already on the unstable, treacherous ground. He was just helping the tactical officer to stand when he noticed the pallor of Reed's face, and the way his breathing was ragged and uneven.

"Are you alright, Malcolm?"

"Fine, sir," came the predictable answer.

Archer did not press this issue, doubting that he looked much better. He felt drained and exhausted, but certainly not sick or weak as he might have expected from radiation poisoning. He took a deep breath, and glanced around. He had no idea where they were in relation to the shuttlepod.

"Do you think we've got far to go?" he asked, deliberately keeping his tone light.

"Not too far, sir, we're almost there by my reckoning..." Reed trailed off, frowning, squinting at something over Archer's shoulder.

The Captain turned, peering behind him into the misty, windswept tableau.

"What is it?" he asked, guardedly.

"I'm not sure, sir," Reed admitted, "I thought I saw movement... there!"

He pointed, and this time, Archer saw it as well; a distinctive shift in the mist, against the ebb and flow of the wind, as if caused by the passage of something – or someone.

"Hello?" Archer called out, uncertainly, taking a hesitant step towards the movement.

He was vaguely aware of Reed at his elbow, peering into the mists and effort to see what might be out there. Archer called out again; "Hello? Is anyone there? We don't mean you any harm..."

The mists shifted again, closer this time, and for one moment, Archer thought he saw a white, bird-like face staring at him, like the skull at the site of the column. As quickly as he thought he'd seen it, it was gone again, snatched away into the swirling mists, and he wondered if his mind was starting to play tricks on him. He turned to speak to Reed, to continue their slog back to the shuttle, but the words died on his lips at the sight of his tactical officer. Reed was standing stock-still, as if frozen to the spot. His eyes were wide, as if in terror, his face almost sheet white.

"Malcolm?" Archer said, uncertainly, "Malcolm, what is it?"

"Cap...captain..." Reed sounded breathless, as if he were fighting for air, drowning in the thick fog, "I... can't... I can't... move..."

Archer reached out to grasp Reed's arms and was shocked to find that the younger man was as taut as a coiled spring; every muscle was tight beneath his uniform, as if he were straining to move against an invisible force that held him in place. Reed let out an audible gasp and Archer swung around. There, before him, stood what he could only describe as an apparition. The figure was over seven feet tall with a hawk-like face, large, staring eyes and a feathery appearance. However, it seemed to be made only of mist – Archer could see the trees through its shadowy facade.

"Hello," Archer began, a little uncertainly, "my name is Captain Archer, of the Starship _Enterprise._ We are peaceful explorers. We picked up a transmission from this planet and we came to investigate; to offer assistance if needed... can you understand me?"

The apparition paid him no attention. It reached out a hand; Archer observed its limbs were thin and scaly, with three extremely slender, clawed fingers and an opposable thumb. It drifted forward without apparently walking, its gaze fixated on Reed. Archer tried to impose himself between the creature and the lieutenant, but the thing waved a hand and Archer suddenly found that he, too, could no longer move. He could only watch helplessly as the creature reached out to touch Reed's face.

Malcolm visibly shivered, as if the touch were icy cold, and then gasped aloud as the talon, as transparent as the mist, drew a line down his cheek, just below his left eye. Archer tried to shout a protest as he saw the dark red line left behind by the talon, blood slowly trickling down the lieutenant's face. The creature paid this no heed, continuing its examination of the other man, completely ignoring Archer. The captain tried to speak again, but he was so immobilised he could not make a sound. The apparition took a slight movement back, sparing Archer but a cursory glance, before turning its full focus back to Reed. In one sudden, fluid motion, it lashed out with both hands. One hand struck Reed in the face, the other in the chest, but they were no longer solid; to Archer's view, the creatures limbs entered into the lieutenant and then withdrew as the creature apparently dissolved, dissipating into the mist.

In the exact moment that the creature disappeared, Archer was released. He lunged forward as Reed made a strangled choking noise and collapsed, crumpling to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut. Archer was beside him in a moment, rolling him onto his back, frantically checking for a pulse.

"Malcolm! Malcolm, can you hear me?"

Reed's face was sheet white, the cut below his eye a dark contrast to his pallor, and the only real indication that the apparition had ever really existed. Archer felt his own heart stop for a moment; his numb fingers were grasping at Reed's neck, searching frantically for a pulse where there was none to be found. The lieutenant wasn't breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

"Malcolm! Don't you do this! Don't you dare!"

Archer wasted no time. Pinching Reed's nose closed, he tilted the younger man's head back, and blew hard into his mouth, once, twice, and then began chest compressions, counting rapidly to thirty in his head, before he repeated the breathing exercises. He was about halfway through when Reed suddenly arched beneath his hands, and choked, drawing in a ragged breath of his own. Archer sagged with relief even as he grasped Reed's shoulders, gently supporting him.

"Easy, Malcolm, easy," Archer warned him, "just breathe..."

Reed clutched at his chest, dragging in a couple of harsh, rasping breaths, and Archer could feel him trembling horribly. For one moment, Reed's eyes met Archer's worried gaze, and he tried to speak. However, a terrible shudder ran through him, his eyes rolled back, and he went limp in Archer's arms. With a gasp, Archer quickly felt for a pulse, and sighed with relief when he found one. Though unconscious, the lieutenant was, at least, still breathing. Getting to his feet, he pulled Reed upright and lifted him in a fireman's carry; his priority had to be getting them back to the shuttlepod. He glanced around; their encounter with the alien apparition had left him bewildered and disorientated. His eye caught an imprint on the ground and he recognised the impression as that of a Starfleet boot print. He managed a grim smile; he might not have earned as many scout merit badges as his tactical officer, and his tracking skills were obviously rusty in comparison, but he was determined to make it back to the shuttle. With Malcolm a dead weight over his shoulder, he lowered his head, and set off.

* * *

Archer had never been as relieved as he was at the moment the mist parted slightly and he recognised the hulking outline of the shuttlepod. The hatch stood open and he stumbled towards it, calling out as he did so.

"Trip! Trip, are you there?"

"Captain!" the relief in the engineer's voice was evident as he stepped out of the hatch, "what's going on? There was some kind of EM pulse; all of the pod systems are dead..."

He trailed off, his eyes widening as Archer approached, and Trip suddenly saw the burden he was carrying.

"Malcolm?" Trip exclaimed, stepping forward to help, "What the hell happened?"

"We need to get inside, Trip," Archer said, breathlessly, stepping up the ramp, "I'll explain everything in a minute, but we may have been exposed to a massive dose of radiation... Then Malcolm was attacked by this... this thing..."

He broke off and shook his head. Trip was frowning; he could see that the captain was exhausted and clearly quite bewildered by whatever he had seen. Unusually, Trip decided he would have to take charge for the moment.

"Come on – let's get you guys inside," he said, firmly.

Easing Reed down from Archer's shoulder, Trip carried the unconscious lieutenant into the shuttle.

"Close the door would you, Jon?" he prompted, gently, as he laid Reed down on the deck.

Archer nodded and pressed the door control, but frowned when nothing happened. Trip shot him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, cap'n," he murmured, reaching for a medical case as he spoke, "somethin' weird's been goin' on over here while you've been gone. There was a massive electromagnetic surge, it knocked out all of our electrical systems – you'll have to use the manual override..."

"The surge – it reached here?"

"You knew about it?"

"We may have caused it," Archer said, grimly, as he opened the override hatch, pumping the lever and slowly drawing the hatch closed, "look, I'll explain everything in a minute – are any of the medical scanners working? Our tricorders got cooked in the blast."

"They were offline and in the storage case – that should have protected them," Trip nodded, as he began pulling out supplies, "but pretty much everything else is offline – propulsion, navigation, communication, sensors, life support – you name it; it's toast."

"Damn," Archer swore softly, as Trip quickly passed the medical scanner over Reed, "how's he doing?"

"I'm no doctor," Trip frowned, "I don't understand most of these readings – it looks like he's suffered a massive neurological shock – he's hypothermic too. There's no sign of that radiation you mentioned though, cap'n."

"Scan me," Archer ordered; Trip obeyed and shrugged.

"Same again," the engineer replied, "no sign of radiation."

Archer knelt down beside Reed and gently pressed his hand to the lieutenant's face. He was ice cold to the touch. There was a rustling noise behind him, and he turned to find Trip unfolding one of the emergency blankets.

"Jon, do you want to tell me exactly what happened out there?" Trip asked, as he began to gently wrap Malcolm in a blanket.

Haltingly, Archer recounted the tale of their journey through the swamp; the strange stone circle, the mysterious column, the single skeleton, the explosion and the apparition that had attacked Reed. Trip listened in mute astonishment, until Archer trailed off, saying, "... and I had to carry Malcolm back the rest of the way. When he stopped breathing... I thought..."

"Yeah," Trip did not need to finish that thought, "well, cap'n, the news don't get any better on this end. Like I said, every system on the shuttle is shot. I've been trying to get the engines restarted; if I can get power to the main systems we might get the communicator online; or even better, we might be able to get off this forsaken rock. Hopefully _Enterprise_ was out of range of the EMP... even if they weren't, they'd have had time to polarise the hull plating – shouldn't have affected them, at any rate."

"Do you think you can get the engines rebooted?" Archer asked, scrubbing a hand over his face exhaustedly.

"I can keep trying," Trip shrugged, "a few of the components overloaded and burned out, but I should be able to replace them from non-essential systems. Do you want me to focus on communications, or getting us out of here?"

"Get us out of here, Trip," Archer replied, in a heartfelt way, "we've got to get Malcolm back to _Enterprise_. Whatever that thing was, I don't want it to make a return visit."

"Understood, cap'n..."

* * *

Archer awoke with a start, not even realising that he had fallen asleep. He shivered; the deck plating of the shuttle was cold, and the air carried a distinct chill. He had dozed off, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bulkhead. He glanced around, wondering what had awoken him. Somewhere in the back of the shuttle, Trip was ripping apart one of the shuttle's systems, no doubt attempting to cannibalise some of the components in an effort to get the engines, navigation and life support systems working. A small noise distracted him, and he glanced down, hope flaring in him for the first time in several hours. On the deck, wrapped in several blankets and his head pillowed on another, Reed was stirring.

"Malcolm?" Archer leaned forward, reaching out and gently grasping the lieutenant's arm, "Malcolm, can you hear me?"

Reed groaned, and shifted slightly, taking in a small, sharp gasp of breath. Archer reached for the medical tricorder, but he could make no more sense of the readings than Trip had been able to; the bizarre readouts needed the eye of a skilled physician. He needed Phlox...

"C... captain...?" Reed's voice was thin, weak, almost gasping.

"I'm here, Malcolm – are you alright?"

"Ah..." Reed screwed his eyes shut, wincing, bringing his hands up to his head, "...hurts..."

"Here," Archer reached into the medical kit, and withdrew a hypospray, "this should help..."

The captain injected the analgesic straight into Reed's neck; the medication took effect almost instantly. Reed relaxed slightly, his breathing evened out, and he cracked his eyes slightly open, still wheezing a little. Archer found himself wondering exactly what damage the ghostly creature had done to the armoury officer.

"Sir," Reed's voice sounded pained and raspy, "what happened?"

"What do you remember, Malcolm?"

Reed frowned slightly, smothering a cough; "That... that thing... like a bird... or, or a ghost... what was it?"

"I don't know," Archer confessed, "and the bad news is the EMP disabled most of the shuttle systems. Trip's working to fix it now..."

"Actually," said a familiar Southern drawl, "Trip's in need of a break and some coffee. Good to see you awake, Mal – how're you feelin'?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Commander..." the tremble in Reed's voice belied his words, but he nonetheless began to sit up.

Archer shared a knowing glance with Trip; they could both see how pale he was and how his hands shook. Wordlessly, Archer took Reed's arm and supported him, helping to lean back against the bulkhead. Archer then picked up one of the blankets and draped it around Reed's shoulder. Malcolm took it gratefully with a murmur of thanks. Archer grabbed a blanket for himself, and Trip followed suit; the temperature was dropping rapidly as night approached, and without life support systems, Archer knew they were in trouble. Already he could see his breath misting in the air, and in his damp uniform he could really feel the cold. However, the captain knew Reed was faring much worse, already hypothermic and injured, Archer feared for the lieutenant the most.

Trip had begun rooting through another supply crate, and produced three ration packs, along with a thermos.

"Lucky for us, I packed coffee – wasn't sure how long we were going to be down here," the engineer smiled, as he poured out three cops of the steaming hot drink, "Sorry, Malcolm – I know you prefer tea but I've no idea how to make the stuff."

Archer picked up one of the cups and pressed it into Reed's shaking hands; "Here – you need to drink this – you need to get warm."

Reed mumbled an obedient affirmation and sipped at the coffee. They drank in silence for a moment, as Archer and Trip also chewed on the contents of a ration pack each. Reed declined to eat, if possible going even paler at the thought as his hand twitched uncomfortably to his chest. Realising the armoury officer was obviously feeling sick and pained; Archer did not press the issue.

"Any luck with the repairs, Trip?" Archer asked, breaking the silence at last.

The engineer gave a small shrug as he finished his ration pack and took a sip of the rapidly cooling coffee.

"I'm short on a few relays; I'll rip them out of the least essential systems but we may have to sacrifice a few of the aft stabilisers – our journey up to _Enterprise_ might be rougher than our landing but once we're clear of the atmosphere we'll be fine. I'll have to bypass a few of the safety systems so we'll have to keep an eye on power flow, we don't want to risk any blowouts. We'll need to conserve as much power as possible; I can't risk powering up life support yet or we won't have enough reserves to bring the engines online, and if we stall it out we're stuck here."

"And we already know _Enterprise_ can't fully penetrate the atmosphere with her scanners, so we've little hope of them finding us," Archer added, grimly, "and with communications down, they've no way of knowing we're in trouble..."

"Captain!" Reed gasped, his voice laced with horror.

Archer and Trip both whipped around; Reed was staring, transfixed, at the shuttlepod hatch.

"Oh my..." Trip's eyes widened as he backed away quickly, scrambling to his feet and assuming a defensive position.

Archer similarly shot up to standing; taking a deep breath – there was something coming through the hatch. The hatch remained firmly closed, but the thing – whatever it was – was a white mist, sparkling slightly, drifting through the hatch as if the barrier simply did not exist. It began to coalesce into a figure, and Archer felt a deep, primal fear seize his throat.

Trip clearly felt the same, as he whispered, stunned; "Is this the creature you saw outside? The one that attacked Malcolm?"

"Yes," Archer nodded, his voice low, as the figure continued to take shape, "whatever you do, don't let it touch you..."

The same hawk-like face was forming, the eerie clawed hands and the feathery, shapeless body, hanging in the air like a ghostly apparition. The face turned to Archer and then to Trip, and then turned to focus on Reed. It raised a hand, and drifted towards the ashen-faced lieutenant.

"Stop!" Archer held up a hand in protest, but the creature flicked a claw at him, and he found himself paralysed, frozen to the spot.

"Don't touch him!" Trip protested, taking a step forward, but with another flick of the claw, the engineer, too, was locked in place, unable to move.

Floating in the air, the misty figure drew closer to Reed, who was still sitting, transfixed, on the deck plates. A clawed hand reached for the lieutenant, resting in the air just above his head. Reed stared up at the creature, his hand pressed to his chest, his breathing rough and ragged.

"Captain..." Reed's voice sounded pained, but steady, "it... it's in my head... I... I can... I can feel it..."

Pinned to the spot and unable to speak, Archer's mind screamed in frustration at his inability to act. The apparition turned its head towards him, briefly, as if it could sense his anger, and was amused. It then turned back to Reed, and gestured. In one fluid motion, the lieutenant was on his feet, pulled upright by the same invisible forces that compelled Archer and Trip to remain motionless. The captain and the engineer could only watch as the hawk-like face surveyed Reed, curiously. It reached out, as if to touch him, but then in an instant the mist shimmered and melted into a shapeless cloud. It hung in the air for only a second, and then suddenly accelerated forwards. It shot straight through Reed, and into the bulkhead, disappearing from view.

As soon as it was gone, Archer gasped in a deep breath, abruptly able to move again. Trip inhaled similarly and shook his head, confused and shocked by what he had just seen. Both of them, however, lunged forward as Malcolm staggered, lost his balance, and collapsed to the deck.

"No! Not again!" Archer hissed, as he grasped Reed's shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

Reed gasped and reached up, grabbing Archer's wrist. Relief flashed through the captain to see that the armoury officer was, at least, still breathing and semi-conscious. The hand clasped around his wrist felt like ice; Reed's face was pale beyond measure, his lips blue, and his eyes... Archer gasped and glanced at Trip. The engineer gave him a horrified look, he had seen it too. Reed's eyes, once grey and clear, were now covered by a misty film.


	5. Chapter 5

Trip grabbed the medical tricorder but shook it in frustration when the readings went haywire.

"Malcolm?" Archer tried, gripping the lieutenant's hand, rubbing it in an attempt to warm the frozen skin, "can you hear me?"

Reed shuddered but did not respond; Trip was already fetching blankets and the coffee thermos.

"Jon, we need to get him warmed up – he's seriously hypothermic and whatever's going on, it's gonna kill him if we don't do something about it."

"Leave it to me," Archer ordered, swiftly, "carry on with the repairs, Trip – just get us out of here and as fast as you can, get the life support systems online. We really need some heat in here!"

"I'm on it," Trip nodded, cast a worried glance at Malcolm, and disappeared back into the aft part of the shuttlepod.

Archer released his hold on Reed just long enough to grab one of the blankets. He lifted the lieutenant slightly, wrapping it around his shoulders, supporting Reed's weight in his arms as he tucked a second blanket around them both, attempting to use some of his own body heat to warm the stricken armoury officer. Reed felt like a block of ice, though he did not shiver, and this worried Archer even more; he knew it was a bad sign when a victim of hypothermia no longer felt the cold. Awkwardly, using only one hand, the other still supporting Reed, Archer unclipped the lid of the flask and poured out the dregs of the coffee into a cup. Picking it up, and cradling Malcolm in his left arm, he raised the mug.

"Malcolm," Archer kept his voice low and calm, "here – drink this."

He held the cup to Reed's lips, and managed to get him to take a few sips of the hot liquid. Archer frowned as Reed gasped and mumbled something incoherent, shaking, more from pain than from cold. Whispering encouragement, Archer persuaded Reed to drink more of the coffee, and was relieved to see some colour finally return to the lieutenant's blue lips. His face remained pale, but his eyes began to clear and he blinked a few times, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Reed? Malcolm, can you hear me?"

"S... sir..." Reed breathed, with a pained shudder, "my head... it... it was in my..."

He broke off, arching his back against a convulsion of pain, letting out a wordless, agonised gasp. Archer grabbed his shoulders and lowered him gently to the deck, before snatching up the hypospray from the medical kit. Turning up the dosage to maximum, he swiftly administered it, watching as Reed trembled and went limp, slumping back onto the deck, losing the battle for consciousness once more. Archer tossed the now empty hypospray back into the kit, and leaned back against the bulkhead, chewing on his lip with worry. He decided to go and check on Trip, realising there was little else he could do for Malcolm.

Making his way into the back of the shuttlepod, Archer did not see the slight shimmer of mist that hovered briefly in the air above Reed, and then disappeared.

* * *

"Hey," Trip turned slightly as Archer entered the aft section of the shuttle, "How's Malcolm?"

"Out for the count," Archer replied, his expression grim with concern, "I don't know what else we can do – I don't even know what that thing did to him. We need to get him to Phlox..."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Trip assured him, "Jon... he said that... that thing... he said it was in his head. What the hell did he mean by that?"

"I've been worried about that myself," Archer admitted, "it might be telepathic – perhaps it's just trying to communicate?"

"Yeah, but why keep picking on Malcolm?" Trip pulled out another scorched relay, tossed it to one side, and began bypassing the circuitry, "I mean, from what you said, it nearly killed him the first time..."

"I don't know, Trip," Archer replied, honestly, "I don't even know if it's friendly or not."

"It's got a damn funny way of showing it if it is friendly," Trip snorted, "right, I think that just about does it – let me try... this."

Trip connected a final relay; a slight vibration ran through the shuttlepod as the basic systems gradually reactivated. Archer glanced up appreciatively as the emergency lighting came back on.

"Trip, you're a genius."

"Don't thank me yet, Jon," Trip shook his head and got to his feet, "let's see what systems we've actually got first of all..."

They made their way to the front of the craft, and Trip dropped into the pilot's chair, tapping a few controls. He scowled, swore, and slapped the console – it flickered, and then powered up. Archer could not suppress an amused smirk. Trip punched in a few commands; a low thrum signalled the activation of the life support systems as the engines powered up. Archer's smirk spread into a genuine smile.

"Good work, Trip," he said, warmly, "have we got enough power to get us out of here?"

"Barely," Trip was shaking his head, "I've got the engines and manoeuvring thrusters online, and minimal life support. We haven't got the aft stabilisers or the inertial dampeners – we can take off, but it's going to be a bumpy ride. Our power core is damaged; we should be able to clear the atmosphere though. The really bad news is that we've got no communications, the navigational computer is shot and all of our sensor systems are fried. Whoever pilots us out of here, they're going to be flying blind."

Archer cast a quick glance back at Reed, and sighed; "I'll take the helm, then. There's no point waiting around here; let's get strapped in..."

Between them, Archer and Trip carefully lifted Reed into one of the shuttle seats, wrapped him in a blanket and fastened the safety restraints around him. Trip then secured himself in the chair next to the armoury officer, and nodded to Archer.

Taking his seat in the pilot's chair and strapping in, Archer cast a glance across the console. The navigational controls flickered intermittently, but the EM pulse had wiped the system logs clean; Archer had no way of pinpointing their location or of finding _Enterprise_. No communications meant they could not call for assistance and none of the onboard systems were fully functional. He took a deep breath, and brought the engines fully online.

"Hold on," he said, "this is going to be bumpy..."

As soon as the shuttlepod started to lift, it began to rock and shudder in the wind. The lack of stabilisers or inertial dampeners only served to worsen the sensation of being trapped in a ship at sea in a hurricane. Archer forced the nose of the shuttle upwards, fighting to gain altitude, as the tiny craft rocked and bucked. Flashes of lightning lit the cabin with eerie brightness as the shuttle shook and rattled, engines straining to maximum to gain momentum and height.

"Captain!" Trip had to shout over the noise of the wind and the vibrations, "Boost the power ratio to the aft thrusters or we're not going to make it!"

Archer obeyed, and the shuttle bucked in response, jarring the occupants sharply, as Archer spat out a curse, and tried to compensate. The shuttle dipped alarmingly, tilting to the port side, dropping rapidly. Archer's hands danced across the console as he fired the port thrusters, attempting to compensate, but then had to counterbalance as the wind shifted direction and almost sent them into a barrel roll.

"I can't tell whether we're gaining altitude!" he called out, "the instruments are going crazy!"

"It's the electromagnetic interference!" Trip responded, "Just keep the nose up and boost the power to the aft thrusters as much as you can, sir!"

Archer fought to balance the shuttle; there was an audible creaking of straining metal as the 'pod fought against the powerful winds, turning and climbing higher into the storm. Archer clenched his teeth as he forced the controls well beyond the recommended safety limits, the force of their ascension pinning them into their seats with the inertia. A momentary lull in the winds was the gap he needed.

"Hang on, Trip – this is going to hurt!"

Archer slapped the controls and kicked the shuttle into maximum impulse; the sudden jolt flung them upwards and snapped them all back into their seats. As quickly as the jolt occurred, it was over, as Archer brought the power levels down; they had cleared the upper atmosphere. The thick grey clouds fell away, and Archer was rewarded with the familiar blackness of space, lit with a backdrop of stars.

"Are you alright back there?" Archer asked, finally able to relax slightly.

"A little seasick, cap'n," Trip drew in a steadying breath, "Malcolm's not looking so good, though..."

"I... I'm... fine..."

Surprised, Archer glanced over his shoulder; Reed was barely conscious, pale beyond measure, but his eyes were clear again, as he blinked and shivered, clutching reflexively at the blanket around his shoulders.

"We're almost there, Malcolm," Archer tried to sound reassuring, "we just need to try to find the _Enterprise_..."

He visually scanned the starry expanse through the cockpit window; without sensors or navigation he was forced to simply look for the ship; it was like looking for a needle in a very large haystack... however...

"Looks like they found us, cap'n," Trip grinned.

Archer smiled with relief as the elegant starship appeared from behind the planet and cruised towards them. He saw the grappling hook deploy and nodded his approval; T'Pol had no doubt detected that the shuttle was badly damaged and was going to do the hard work for him. He released the controls and sat back as the hook attached to the hull with a metallic clang; there was a sharp jolt, and then they were moving once more. Archer breathed a sigh of relief as they were drawn into the cargo hold; he watched as the bay doors closed, and he heard the hiss of air being pumped into the bay. He unfastened his restraints and stood up, stretching his sore, tired muscles.

Trip similarly got up, and helped Reed to unfasten his restraints; "God, Malcolm, you're frozen – we need to get you warmed up."

Reed raised a weak smile, then shuddered, and raised one hand to his head, gritting his teeth against the piercing pain.

"Stay with him," Archer ordered, "I'll call for Phlox..."

Archer crossed over to the hatch, opened it, and stepped out of the shuttle. Trip crouched in front of Reed; his friend looked terrible, and Trip felt his throat tighten in sympathy.

"What the hell did that thing do to you, Malcolm?" he whispered, taking Reed's hands in his, rubbing them in an attempt to warm him slightly.

"I... I don't...know..." Reed shuddered, "it... it was in my head... I could feel it..."

"Jon's fetching Dr. Phlox," Trip tried to sound reassuring, "you'll be fine, Malcolm."

"I... it..." Reed broke off, and gasped; "it's... it's still here...!"

"What?"

Trip leapt up in horror; sure enough, the sparkling white mist was reappearing, shimmering and floating right beside him, next to Reed. Trip reacted without conscious thought, thrusting his hand out and into the mist as if in an effort to wave it away like troublesome smoke. It felt like he had stuck his hand into liquid nitrogen; the cold lanced through his whole body and he gasped, stiffening in shock.

"Jon!" he cried out, snatching his hand back quickly, "Jon, that thing – it's here! It came with us!"

He heard Archer shout something, probably calling for security, but the misty apparition had other ideas. It was moving towards Reed, clawed hands outstretched.

"Leave him alone!" Trip shouted, helplessly.

The ghostly talons brushed the sides of Reed's head; the armoury officer gasped and arched his back in pain, and then the creature was gone. Trip grabbed Reed as the other man crumpled in his chair, gasping and trembling with pain. Trip heard running footsteps and looked up as Archer came charging back into the 'pod, closely followed by T'Pol and Dr. Phlox.

"Cap'n..."

"I heard, Trip – what happened?"

"Same as last time – it appeared, tried to grab Malcolm, and then disappeared..." Trip held up his right hand; the skin was so white it was almost blue, and it stung painfully, "I touched it... it was so cold..."

Phlox was beside him, scanner in hand, even as he was administering an injection to Reed. The lieutenant opened his mouth as if to speak, but the medication took immediate effect, and he simply sighed, slumping forward in the chair. He would have fallen had Phlox not caught his shoulders, gently pushing him back into the seat.

"Captain," the doctor sounded uncharacteristically dour, "I do not know what has happened, but Lieutenant Reed has suffered severe neurological trauma; he is also extremely hypothermic and in a deep state of shock. I must get him to sickbay immediately. Commander Tucker, your hand appears to have suffered frost damage; you will also require tissue regeneration therapy immediately to avoid long-term damage."

"Do it," Archer nodded, "T'Pol, contact the bridge and alert security; we may have an intruder on board – come with me to the ready room, I'll explain everything..."


	6. Chapter 6

Less than an hour later, Archer found himself heading towards sickbay. He had debriefed T'Pol, who had immediately ordered a full internal scan of the ship to locate their ghostly intruder. Hoshi had retrieved the damaged tricorders from the ship and was attempting to recover any information that might assist in working out what had happened on the planet's surface. Archer had ordered Travis Mayweather to hold their position for now; he was not willing to leave the system until he knew exactly what was going on.

The doors to sickbay swished open and Archer felt the difference as soon as he stepped inside; the air was distinctly warmer than usual. He glanced around and his gaze met Trip's; then engineer was sitting beside a bio-bed. He began to rise, but Archer waved him back into his seat, glancing at the figure lying on the bed. Reed was entirely motionless, his face stark white and his lips blue under the harsh lighting. He had been covered with two thick blankets, and a small device was attached to his left temple.

"How's the hand?" Archer asked, quietly, keeping his voice low.

"Fine," Trip replied, a little distantly, "the doc sorted it as soon as he got Malcolm stable..."

"How's he doing?"

Trip shook his head, his face taut with worry; "The doc's not saying much, so I guess it's pretty bad. It's hotter than a Florida summer in here but he still feels like a block of ice... Jon, what the hell was that thing, and why's it so interested in Malcolm?"

"I wish I knew," Archer replied, in a heartfelt way, "Hoshi's trying to recover as much information as she can from our tricorders, maybe she can translate some of the writing on the stones we found and give us a better clue as to what that... creature... actually is."

A slight noise made him glance up; Dr. Phlox emerged from his office, consulting a PADD. The doctor glanced up, but did not even seem able to raise his customary smile. Archer had never seen the Denobulan look so grim.

"Captain," Phlox greeted him, "I'm sorry I have been unable to report thus far... the truth is I am somewhat confused by Lieutenant Reed's current condition. Commander Tucker has told me that he was attacked by an incorporeal entity?"

"That's right," Archer nodded, "though we don't know yet it if it was attacking, or just attempting to communicate..."

Trip snorted; "The thing damn near killed him, Jon. Three times. I'd call that an attack."

"The captain is right, commander," Phlox replied, firmly, "it is unwise to ascribe a motive until one can thoroughly understand the creature in question."

"How's Malcolm doing?" Archer asked, quickly changing the subject before Trip could argue.

"My immediate concern is to raise his body temperature," Phlox replied, "as you can tell, I've raised the air temperature and I am keeping him as warm as possible, but his body is not responding as it should. I cannot explain it – nor can I explain the neurological trauma. He appears to have suffered a massive system shock; I have never seen anything like it. I have been consulting my database. The only similar case I can find was suffered by a crewmember on a long-range Vulcan exploratory expedition several years ago."

"What happened?" Archer asked, curiously.

"The Vulcans made contact with a telepathic species, the Betazoids, who are just emerging as a warp-capable species," Phlox explained, consulting his pad, "the Betazoids communicate amongst themselves exclusively through telepathy; as you can imagine, such a species is incredibly open and completely lacking in secrecy. I understand that most Betazoids even forego wearing clothes save in the presence of non-telepaths."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Trip commented.

Archer flashed him a surprised look, and Trip shrugged, explaining; "Well, if everyone around you can read your deepest thoughts, what's the point in trying to hide anything?"

Archer had to admit, it made sense.

"So what happened to the Vulcan? These people sound friendly enough."

"Indeed," Phlox nodded, "I have never met a Betazoid personally, but I understand they are a peaceful, loving and deeply sensitive people. When they encountered the first Vulcan, the three Betazoids present automatically attempted their usual telepathic communication; the unfortunate Vulcan crewmember suffered extensive neurological damage as a result. Vulcans are much more reserved and mentally disciplined than Betazoids; the attempt at a friendly greeting resulted in serious injury. The Betazoids were horrified and rendered all assistance they could. Fortunately, the Vulcan made a full recovery... unfortunately for us, the therapy used was telepathic in nature, and we do not have any telepaths on board."

"So you think Malcolm was subject to a telepathic attack?" Trip asked, in disbelief.

"Or a greeting, commander," Phlox reminded him, "there is no way to tell. But, yes, I do believe that whatever attempted to communicate with Lt. Reed did so telepathically, and this has caused the lieutenant a great deal of pain and trauma."

"So why keep targeting him? Why not try to communicate with myself or Trip?" Archer asked, puzzled, "The creature must have known it wasn't getting through..."

"I cannot explain that, Captain," Phlox replied, as he checked the readouts above the biobed, "all I can tell you is that Lt. Reed is in a critical condition. I am doing all I can, but only time will tell."

"He said it was in his head," Trip commented, doubtfully, casting a concerned glance at the prone armoury officer, "he said he could feel it... maybe it really was trying to communicate with him..."

"It might not have known it was hurting him," Archer said, trying to sound reassuring, "it may have been as confused as we are; we are as alien to it as it is to us."

"A wise comment, captain," Phlox agreed, as he made an adjustment to the device attached to Reed's temple, "I am keeping Lt. Reed in an induced coma for now in an attempt to reduce the shock to his system as he recovers."

"Will we be able to speak to him any time soon? I need to know if that creature was able to communicate with him," Archer said, "if that thing is on board it could pose a risk to every single member of this crew."

"I would not recommend it, captain," Phlox was shaking his head, "it would only cause the lieutenant further pain and distress."

"If there is anything he can tell us about this creature's intentions, I really need to hear it, doc," Archer insisted, firmly, "I don't want to do this anymore than you do, but if it is possible for me to speak to him, even if it's only for a few minutes, I do need to."

"I understand your concerns, captain, but my immediate priority is the health and safety of Lt. Reed. I simply cannot allow it."

"And I appreciate that," Archer responded, tersely, "but if that thing is on board it may attack other crewmembers and you're going to have a lot more patients on your hands, doctor. I need to speak to Lt. Reed to see if the creature was able to communicate with him. He may know something that can help us."

Phlox hesitated, glancing at Reed and then back at the Captain, shaking his head slightly.

"Very well, captain... but not immediately. The trauma is still too severe; it would be extremely dangerous to bring Lt. Reed back to consciousness at this stage. I'd like to give it a few hours..."

"Four hours," Archer conceded, "while Hoshi works on the tricorder logs and we conduct a thorough search of the ship for the intruder."

"Cap'n," Trip spoke up, "with your permission, I'd like to stay here... if that thing is on board and if it comes after Malcolm again..."

"Fine," Archer conceded, "you're off-duty for the next rota in any case. Grab a phaser, though – I want security on high alert and armed, just in case this creature is dangerous. I'll post a couple of guards outside as well."

Phlox nodded, wordlessly, still clearly less than happy with the situation, but turned his attention back to his patient. Archer sighed, and then nodded to Trip; "I'll be on the bridge."


	7. Chapter 7

Ensign Hoshi Sato paused to rub her eyes tiredly, taking her gaze away from her screen for a few moments to catch a surreptitious glance around the bridge. She had been working on the tricorder logs ever since the captain and the away team had returned to the ship. Captain Archer's tricorder had yielded very little information; it seemed Lieutenant Reed had taken the more detailed scans, but the data was even more corrupted than that held in Archer's tricorder; it seemed that Lt. Reed had been that much closer to the electromagnetic pulse. She had finally managed to extract the data and had been attempting to rebuild as much of the information as she could, while simultaneously trying to translate the archaic alien symbols. The language appeared to be pictorially based hieroglyphs rather than a recognisable alphabet as she had first thought, but rather than the pictures representing letters or words, they appeared to represent ideas – it was more of an art than a language, but the alien drawings were so far removed from any human concept of visual representation that it was difficult to work out what she was looking at. However, she was making slow progress, drawing parallels from other such hieroglyphic writings. One thing that she was certain of, however, was that the language she was looking at was old – truly ancient. She wondered if it might be the oldest language that she had ever seen. She almost smiled – if it had not been for the desperate urgency of the matter, she might have been excited at the prospect of writing a paper for her xenolinguistics journals and submitting the language for further study to her colleagues on Earth.

She tapped a few keys to bring up similar images, trying to ascertain the meaning, jotting a few notes on a PADD, and listening again to the repeated message she had recorded, and which had suddenly ceased, apparently at the same time that the ancient stone column had been destroyed. She regretted the loss of such an artefact, and wished that she had been given the opportunity to study it up close, though from what she had heard about the away mission, she was relieved she had stayed behind.

Turning her attention back to her console, she lost track of time, engrossed in her work. She was just making a few notes when she sensed a movement beside her, and jumped slightly when she realised that Captain Archer was standing there.

"Sorry, captain," she apologised, feeling herself blushing slightly, "I – I didn't see you there..."

"I didn't want to break your concentration," Archer quirked a tired smile; Hoshi could see the worry in his eyes; "we've been getting reports from all over the ship of sightings of everything from a smoke in the corridors to mist shimmering in the mess hall. One crewman, who shall remain nameless, apparently completely freaked out when a 'ghost' appeared in his quarters. This creature is definitely on board, we're just lucky nobody else has been hurt by it so far."

"I've been working on the scans Lt. Reed took," Hoshi reported, turning back to her monitor, "captain, this language is incredibly old, older than anything I've ever seen. It's very complicated, I can't get an exact translation, and the logs are badly corrupted..."

"Anything you can give me at this stage would be helpful, Hoshi."

She sighed, and took a moment to organise her thoughts, before summoning an image of several alien symbols onto the screen before her.

"The language is based on pictorial representation rather than a concrete alphabet, it looks like a very early form of a written language – almost primitive," she explained, "but, oddly, there seem to be representations of an advanced technology; whatever it was that produced the EM pulse you experienced... it's almost as if the people who wrote this witnessed the technology but did not understand it."

"So perhaps whoever built the stone circle and the column didn't carve the symbols?" Archer guessed.

Hoshi nodded; "Exactly – I think the people who carved the column were attempting to explain what they had seen. I can't translate much – most of it doesn't seem to have a direct meaning. It certainly doesn't relate to the message we were picking up. It's two different languages, sir. Two different races."

"Damn," Archer said, "so we're no further forward then..."

"Not much," Hoshi admitted, "but I do have a little. All I can say is that whoever carved the column recorded a lot about a bright light – it looks like a sun, or a star. There's also a rather odd depiction and I can't figure it out; it looks like some sort of god, or demon – something bright and powerful. It's this symbol, here..."

Archer drew in a sharp breath of recognition, causing Hoshi to give him a quizzical look.

"Captain...?" she began, curiously.

The strange pictogram, to Hoshi, appeared to be a stylised eagle, standing on two legs with two clawed arms outstretched. Sharp lines emanated from the creature's hands, and large wings were spread out behind its back.

"That looks remarkably like the figure that appeared to us on the surface," Archer replied, in a deliberately measured tone, "does the text give any indication about what it is – or what its intentions are?"

"Hard to say, captain," Hoshi said, apologetically, "I'll keep at it, though. Whatever this creature is, it appears several times on the carvings; the computer is still recovering data. The tricorder memory cores were severely corrupted."

"Anything you find out, let me know immediately," Archer inclined his head, and stepped away slightly, "T'Pol, you have command – I'll be in sickbay."

"Aye, captain," T'Pol acknowledged, as he stepped into the turbo-lift.

Archer made his way down to sickbay quickly, and was surprised to find that, if anything, the air was even warmer. Trip stood up to greet him, and was obviously feeling the heat – he had removed his uniform jacket, revealing his standard issue blue t-shirt.

"Hey Jon," Trip immediately dispensed with formality, "Phlox is around here somewhere..."

"I am here, Captain," the doctor appeared from behind one of his many animal cages, frowning as he checked one of the readouts on the bio-bed, "I assume you still wish to speak to Lt. Reed..."

"I'm afraid I must," Archer nodded, firmly, "Hoshi isn't getting anywhere with the alien text, she says it's a different language entirely from the signal we received... if Lt. Reed has communicated with this creature, then I need to know what it may have said to him."

Phlox drew in a deep breath and sighed, reaching for a hypospray, as he reminded Archer; "I must repeat, captain, I do not agree with this course of action."

"I'll note your objection in my log, doctor," Archer replied, crossing his arms.

The doctor frowned, but said nothing, and administered the injection.

"Give him a moment," the doctor said, holding up a cautionary hand, "he is likely to be disoriented..."

Phlox did not get any further; with a sudden gasp, Reed shot bolt upright on the bio-bed, causing both Trip and Archer to jump back in surprise. Phlox grabbed Reed's arm, as if to restrain or support him, but the lieutenant made no further attempt to move, simply sitting there, gasping in deep breaths, and looking around wildly.

"Lieutenant?" Dr Phlox stepped forward to where Reed could see him, "Lieutenant Reed, do you know where you are?"

Reed hesitated, and nodded, still gasping a little, as he stuttered out; "S...sickbay. _Enterprise_..."

"Good. Do you know what happened to you?"

Reed opened his mouth as if to speak, but Trip cut him off, point upwards with a cry of "Captain!"

Archer and Phlox both respectively looked up, and there is was – a thick, white cloud of shimmering mist, pouring through the bulkhead, obviously drawn by Reed's sudden return to consciousness.

"Don't touch it," Archer warned, "don't do anything unless it threatens us..."

Trip already had a phaser in hand, keeping it targeted at the coalescing figure. Phlox had already grabbed a scanner and was taking detailed readings. The figure formed in the air just above and behind Reed, who had apparently frozen in place. The figure raised its clawed hands, placing them either side of Reed's head. The lieutenant gasped in obvious pain as the light around the creature's hands grew brighter.

"Leave him alone!" Trip pulled the trigger, but the beam passed straight through the apparition.

On the bed, Reed drew in a shaky breath – his eyes had clouded over again, taking on a milky-white appearance. He trembled in the creature's grasp, and Archer took a step forward, but then Reed spoke.

"Do not move."

Archer froze. Reed had spoken, but it was not Reed's voice – it seemed that the creature was speaking through the armoury officer. Reed's eyes were glowing an eerie white as the figure spoke.

"If you move I will kill this one."

"Who are you?" Archer asked, taking a cautionary step backwards, gesturing for Trip to lower the phaser, "My name is Jonathan Archer, Captain of the _Enterprise_..."

"I do not care," the creature replied, through Reed, "where are the T'ch'ra'kai? This one has a receptive mind, but no knowledge."

"I... I do not know that word," Archer replied, honestly, glancing at Trip and Phlox, who both shook their heads, "who or what are the tuh... ch...?"

"You do not know that T'ch'ra'kai. This one confirms this," the creature moved one clawed hand over Reed's head, and the lieutenant grimaced, clearly in pain, "you know nothing of me. You know nothing of the T'ch'ra'kai. This is not possible. Our watch spread over the dozen known star realms. How can this be, that you do not know the twelve watchers of the T'ch'ra'kai? How long have I been imprisoned?"

"Captain," Phlox's warning tone cut in, quickly, "Lt. Reed is suffering extreme neurological disruption, prolonging this conversation could cause serious brain and nervous system damage. His body temperature is also dropping rapidly. He could be at risk of cardiac arrest."

"You are hurting my crewman," Archer said, addressing the entity hovering above the bed, "please, you must release him."

"One life does not matter. I will find another receptive vessel. You will help me find the T'ch'ra'kai."

"All life matters to my species. I will not help you if you hurt my crew."

There was a slight pause, and then the mist suddenly evaporated, disappearing upwards into the ceiling. Released from its grasp, Reed groaned, and slumped sideways. Phlox caught his arm, supporting him, trying to ease him back onto the bed. However, Reed struggled, trying to pull himself towards Archer.

"Captain," he wheezed, reaching out, blindly, "it... it wants to find its people..."

"These T'ch'ra'kai – they are its people?" Phlox queried, saving the Archer the trouble of attempting to pronounce the unfamiliar word.

"Yes," Reed's voice was little more than a whisper; Archer was appalled to see blood drip from the lieutenant's nose onto the blanket, "but it... it's very angry. It wants to kill them... they imprisoned it, on the planet. Our scans woke it up, and it realised the power supply keeping it there was failing... it caused the explosion..."

"Do you know why it was imprisoned?" Archer asked, as Trip took over supporting Reed, allowing Phlox to rush to prepare a hypospray.

Half-sitting, half-cradled in Trip's arms, Reed drew in a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly as his eyes slowly began to clear a little; "I... I don't know. It's dangerous... it wants a body, but it's too powerful, it would kill the host after a while, no matter what... it's the only time it's vulnerable..."

"Does it mean to hurt us?" Archer asked, urgently, "Is it a threat to the crew?"

Reed tried to speak but could only gasp as pain lanced through him; it felt as if every nerve was simultaneously freezing and burning, while someone had stuck a spike through his head. He had no control over his body, which was shaking uncontrollably, as he tried to raise his hands to cover his eyes, anything to ease the pain...

"Malcolm! Is it a threat to the crew?"

"It would kill us all," Reed whispered, painfully, as he felt himself being lowered onto the bed, "to get what it wants..."

Something was pressed against his neck, and he distantly recognised the distinctive hiss of a hypospray. He groaned, once, and then surrendered to the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Archer glanced at the faces of his senior crew as they stood around the briefing table. They had re-watched the security footage from sickbay a number of times over the last couple of hours, while Hoshi continued with her attempts at translation. They had reconvened to share their findings.

"The creature that appeared in sickbay had no detectable life signs," Dr. Phlox was there, having taken a brief sojourn from the medical bay to deliver his report in person, "however, I did discern notable levels of electromagnetic energy and something that I can only describe as a neurological reading – it has a very distinctive brain pattern, but it can only be detected at extremely close quarters. It is clearly non-corporeal and very powerful, a creature of pure energy. It seems to be telepathic in nature but lacking in empathy; it showed no remorse or sympathy for harming Lt. Reed and threatened to kill him if we did not assist it in finding the T'ch'ra'kai. However, I do not know if it is actually malevolent or simply ambivalent."

"What is Lt. Reed's condition?" Archer asked, quickly.

"Stable, for now," Phlox conceded, "I am keeping him sedated to reduce the trauma and aid his recovery, but I fear each time the creature interacts with him, it causes him further pain. It is apparent that the creature has to restrain its powers if it wishes to use a human host."

"Lt. Reed said it was vulnerable – could it do that? Possess a member of the crew entirely?" Hoshi asked, clearly concerned, "Would we know if it did?"

"It was pretty obvious while it was using Malcolm," Trip replied, recalling the misty form and Reed's glowing white eyes, "I think we'd know if someone had been, uh, possessed..."

"Any luck with the translations – or with finding out about this T'ch'ra'kai?" Archer asked, glancing around, clearly desperate for some good news or useful inspiration.

"The word T'ch'ra'kai fits in with the message we initially received," Hoshi reported, bringing up the image of the creature Archer had identified to her earlier, "all I can work out from the recorded message is that it was automated and left there by this species; whether as a welcome or a warning I can't tell."

She tapped a few more keys, and brought up a few more of the archaic pictograms.

"This isn't so much a language as a representation of events," she explained, tapping some of the images to enlarge them, "that's why it's so hard to translate – but from what I can make out, the planet was occupied by a primitive people. I have no name for them, but they apparently worshipped this creature as a god..." she gestured to the hawk-headed alien, "however, it seems that other gods came and imprisoned their god in a chamber of stone. It was a punishment – but it became a holy place to the people, a place to go when they were dying."

"That explains the skull we found," Archer commented, "it looks as though this 'god' was our non-corporeal visitor who assumed the appearance of the native people."

"Agreed," Hoshi nodded, "I don't know what happened to wipe out the indigenous people, but it seems that they relied on their god to protect them."

"And he wasn't there to save them," Archer mused, "does it say much about the nature of this god? Was he kind or cruel, I wonder?"

"I don't know, captain," Hoshi sighed, "all I can translate from what I can see, is that their god had the power of life and death; his word was law and his wings could block out the sun if he was displeased... it's all very vague."

"I have been running long range scans of the star systems within the vicinity," T'Pol reported, tapping a few buttons, "the entity spoke of 'the dozen known star realms'. Assuming these to be star systems capable of supporting life, I have identified seven potential star systems within range that could be the realms it spoke of. There might be sentient life that would have knowledge of this creature and its intentions."

Hoshi's pictograms disappeared, to be replaced by star charts on the computer screens.

"You mean we might find the T'ch'ra'kai?" Archer raised his eyebrows as he studied the newly charted systems.

"It is one of many possibilities, captain," T'Pol responded, "it is also possible that we will find nothing except for seven more planetary systems to add to our star charts."

"Do you have any hints as to where we should start, T'Pol?" Archer asked, carefully, leaning on the table to study the charts.

She paused for a moment, and then pressed a few buttons, bringing up one of the star charts.

"This planet looks the most capable of supporting life as we would recognise it, captain," she reported, "it has a nitrogen-oxygen rich atmosphere, several large land masses and oceans covering more than half of the planet's surface. However, if the T'ch'ra'kai are non-corporeal, they might not require such hospitable conditions and they could reside on any planet – assuming, that is, that they still exist at all."

"Understood," Archer nodded, tapping the edge of the table thoughtfully, "well, without any more hints from our intruder, we need to start looking somewhere. Travis, lay in a course – we'll check this one out first."

* * *

Alone in sickbay, Lt. Malcolm Reed lay in an induced slumber, silent and unmoving under a heated blanket as the monitors around him kept a steady reading on his life signs. However, the neurological scanner began to emit a low, continuous beeping, as the brain activity began to increase dramatically. A white cloud was forming above the armoury officer's chest; it was shapeless this time, as a tendril reached forwards, piercing his sternum. Reed gasped and sat straight up on the bed, snapped awake and pulled upright by the invisible force. The voice – the awful, screeching voice – echoed around in his head, and he groaned in pain.

"What do you want?" he hissed, through gritted teeth; "Why me? What do you want from me?"

 _You are the protector of these people_ , the voice was quieter this time, but still felt like claws sinking into his head, _just as I was the protector of mine. You will help me._

"I will not jeopardise this crew!"

 _I am Tai'chu'un. I do not care about your people. I must find the T'ch'ra'kai. You will help me or I will kill you and find another._

Reed hesitated; he had no real fear of dying in the line of duty but his death would accomplish nothing if the creature simply moved on to someone else.

"What must I do?"

 _You will take me to the home of the T'ch'ra'kai._

"Why? Why did they imprison you?"

 _Take me to them._

"I need to know why!"

 _So that the people you protect do not die. Give yourself to me._

"What?"

 _I require a host. I need a solid form to fly a small ship to their star realm. You will be my body._

"No! No, I – argh!"

Reed broke off with a choked cry of pain as the ghostly creature, Tai'chu'un, passed straight through his chest. A cold feeling swept through him like an arctic blast; every muscle felt leaden and heavy. His eyes were misty, he could barely see through the white clouds that seemed to be masking his vision. Every nerve sang with pain, but he was moving, unwillingly, pulled around like a puppet to the creature's whim. Its voice constantly whispered and shrieked in the back of his mind; he could not see, speak or move of his own accord; trapped in his own body, he fought to regain control, but the creature laughed at his efforts.

 _Sleep,_ it commanded, _I must keep you alive for now... so you must sleep._

That was the last think Reed was aware of before everything went dark. Tai'chu'un stood up, flexing Reed's hands, taking in the odd nuances of the alien body it inhabited. By suppressing most of its natural powers, Tai'chu'un was able to keep the body alive. It was not as physically strong as that of its watched people, nor was it capable of flight, but this did not matter; the brain was much more advanced and with a little adjustment it had accommodated the entity perfectly with only minor damage to the host.

It walked towards the door. Two crewmen stood there, who turned in amazement.

"Lieutenant...?" one of them asked, uncertainly, reaching for a weapon.

A mere wave of the host's hand sent a wave of telepathic energy coursing through the two of them, as they convulsed and collapsed to the deck. Tai'chu'un stepped over them, and paused, accessing the host's mind, looking for schematics of the ship. It was much harder to move around when confined to physical spaces and solid floors. The host attempted to protest, but Tai'chu'un simply tore down its pathetic attempts to resist and forcefully extracted the information it needed. It then turned and strode down the corridor, stumbling a little as it got used to the motion of walking in this strange form. It encountered several more of the odd people who crewed the ship; most of them were caught unawares, but one or two fired weapons at it. Tai'chu'un felt the energy discharges and absorbed them, dispelling them harmlessly. Each impact caused pain to the host, but Tai'chu'un silenced it and ignored the physical sensations. The pain meant nothing to it. One of the figures before the creature raised a communications device.

"Ensign Fox to Captain Archer! Lieutenant Reed has left sickbay – it appears the intruder is using him to..."

Tai'chu'un unleashed a psychic blast, but the woman before him dived back around the corner. The other crewman was not so lucky, and crumpled to the deck, shivering and groaning, clutching his head.

"Ensign Fox! Report!" Archer's voice was coming from the communicator.

Fox opened fire, but the phaser beam had no effect. The creature waved a hand, throwing her backwards into the bulkhead, where she slid to the floor, stunned. The figure of Lt. Reed walked past her, his eyes glowing with a freakishly bright white light, as she reached for the communicator.

"This is Ensign Fox," she muttered, attempting to get to her feet, "sir, the creature is in possession of Lt. Reed... he, uh, it, um, I mean, they... they seem to be heading to the shuttle bay..."

"Lock down all shuttle access," Archer ordered to someone on the bridge, "Ensign Fox – keep a visual on the entity but do not engage further. We need to stop it from leaving the ship."

"Understood, captain!"

Fox hauled herself to her feet and dashed down the corridor after the creature.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the precautions and all efforts to the contrary, Archer had to suppress a curse of frustration as the entity overrode every security protocol they could put in place, and the shuttle launched out of the bay; the crew on duty had barely had enough time to escape the bay before the hatches opened and decompressed the area of all atmosphere.

"Travis! Lay in a pursuit course – follow that shuttle, see where they're going!" Archer ordered, "All decks, security, report in please!"

There was a very long pause, and then a breathless, female voice came over the comm.

"Captain, sir, this is Ensign Fox. Most of the security personnel have been incapacitated; Ensign Cutler and Dr. Phlox are tending to them. Minor neurological shock mostly, a bit like being stunned by a phaser, along with a few bruises and sprains. We have thirteen injured to take to sickbay reported so far. I'm so sorry sir – Lt. Reed is... well, he's gone, sir. The creature took him."

"I am detecting one human bio-sign aboard the shuttle pod," T'Pol reported in response to Archer's questioning glance, "I believe Lt. Reed is a hostage of the alien entity."

Archer nodded, and turned back to the comm.

"Ensign Fox. I'm placing you in temporary command of the armoury and security personnel. Please report to the bridge and take the tactical station; we are in pursuit course of the stolen shuttle pod and we may need weapons."

"Understood, sir – I'm on my way."

Archer closed the comm., as Trip gave him a horrified look.

"Jon, you can't be serious – you can't open fire on the shuttle, Malcolm's on board!"

"It's a last resort, Trip – we need to see where they're going first," Archer said, darkly, "Travis, can we use the grappling hook to restrain the shuttle?"

"Negative, sir," the helmsman shook his head, "we're travelling at full impulse speed. If we tried to catch them with the grapple, even if we were able to make contact, we'd risk tearing a hole in the shuttle."

"Keep it on standby," Archer ordered, "if it drops its speed, grab it. T'Pol, have you got any idea where it's taking us?"

"We appear to be heading towards the most distant star system I charted," T'Pol replied, "long range scans are not clear, but it appears to be a binary star system hosting nine planetoids."

"In other words, we'll see when we get there," Archer grumbled, "Hoshi, any response to our hails?"

"None, sir," she shook her head, "I've been trying to communicate with the creature and with Lt. Reed, but I'm getting no response from either of them."

"Trip, it's likely this thing is heading for the planet," Archer noted, as Ensign Fox stepped out onto the bridge and took the tactical station; "go and prepare a shuttlepod for launch. Pack it with emergency medical supplies and weapons; we may be going on a rescue mission. I'll join you and we'll launch immediately if it starts to enter an atmosphere. Put EV suits on standby, we can't guarantee a breathable atmosphere."

"Prepare for everything, got it," Trip nodded, "I'll be ready when you are, Jon."

"Good," Archer nodded, as Trip stepped into the turbo-lift recently vacated by Fox, "right, let's go get our armoury officer back..."

* * *

Reed had all but given up fighting; every time he tried to fight the creature or protest against its actions, it screamed and pounded at his consciousness. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He was still aware of his body, the overwhelming cold and the pain of having been struck by several phaser blasts – though a small part of him had been very pleased with the marksmanship shown by his security teams – but he was completely disconnected from his own limbs, completely at the mercy of the creature possessing him. He moved jerkily, like a puppet worked by an amateur yanking at the strings, and Reed could only watch as the creature, Tai'chu'un, guided them towards a strange, greenish planetoid, the fourth in orbit around twin suns. He could see that the _Enterprise_ was following them, but the creature did not pay it any heed. Reed tried to see the readings on the sensors but the creature blinded him, shoving him back away from conscious thought. Struggling to stay coherent, Reed was vaguely aware of the entity piloting the shuttle down through the clouds at a sharp angle.

 _Too sharp,_ he thought, distantly, _Tai'chu'un, we're going to crash._

 _No,_ the creature hissed, in his mind, _you're going to crash... goodbye._

With a jolt and a gasp, Reed was catapulted back into conscious control so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. Grabbing the edges of the console, he groaned in sick pain and despair, willing himself to not pass out. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, shivering with sudden cold and attempting to suppress an overwhelming feeling of nausea, Reed raised his head. The creature was gone, it had fled the shuttle, and the 'pod was in a nose-first dive straight towards the ground.

Reed stared dumbly out through the viewer for one moment, and then scrabbled to grab the controls. His hands were numb and uncooperative, but he fought with all his strength to make the adjustments he needed to. He managed to fire the reverse thrusters in an attempt to slow his descent, but even as the nose of the shuttle began to lift, he knew he wasn't going to make it. He wrenched on the controls, veering the craft around the peak of a mountain, beyond which was a forested valley. In the distance, Reed could see the shore of a vast ocean. The beach might have offered the best landing site, but the craft was losing altitude too sharply to compensate in enough time. The shuttle hit one of the trees and bounced upwards; Reed tried to pull up but the controls were no longer responding properly. There was another jolt, and then another, as the shuttlepod dropped again into the canopy. Reed was vaguely aware of a series of impacts as the shuttle crashed through the rocks and trees of the valley's edge. A particularly hard impact flung him sideways out of the chair; his head collided solidly with the navigation console, and after that, he knew no more.


	10. Chapter 10

Archer and Trip sat in a tense silence as Trip piloted the second shuttlepod towards the planet's surface. Archer raised his eyebrows in surprise as he surveyed the mountainous valleys of lush vegetation.

"I thought T'Pol said this planet wasn't showing any life signs?" Trip queried, as a winged creature flew past the shuttle, clearly startled by their appearance.

"She said her scans couldn't penetrate the atmosphere," Archer corrected him; "it seems there's some kind of dampening field around the planet scrambling our sensors and blocking communications."

"Sounds familiar," Trip muttered, "damn it, the instruments are going a bit crazy here. I can't get a fix on Malcolm's shuttle... the last reading I got wasn't positive, it looked like it was about to do a nose dive into the side of a mountain..."

"Wait, Trip – what's that?" Archer pointed at the view port; Trip followed his line of sight.

Sure enough, there, in the distance, a wisp of smoke rose steadily in the otherwise still air. Trip altered course towards it, and soon enough, they saw the trail of devastation through the rainforest.

"That can only have been caused by a shuttle," Trip commented, as he scanned the path for a suitable landing space, "it looks like the pilot tried to pull it out of the nose dive at the last minute, otherwise we'd just be looking at a large crater right now."

"Which means Malcolm could have survived the impact," Archer finished for him, "set us down wherever you can Trip, the closer the better."

"It's gonna be tight," Trip warned him, but nonetheless began to descend.

The shuttle dropped down slowly, and then began to land between two badly damaged trees, scraping the hull slightly on one of the trunks. It touched down safely, and the hatch opened slowly, allowing Archer and Trip to peer outside. The tropical heat hit them like a solid wall; the air was thick, humid and heavy with the scent of exotic foliage. Animals chirped and chattered, hidden from view by the tropical growth.

"Wow," Trip gazed about in wonder, "what a place..."

"Agreed," Archer could not help but compare the humid temperatures and the bright colours to the previous planet they had visited; their time spent on that marshy, cold, desolate landscape seemed a lifetime ago, "come on – the other 'pod's over there..."

They each grabbed an emergency supply pack and stepped down the ramp. Archer led the way towards where the other shuttle was a crumpled mess of metal embedded in the roots of a huge tree. The humid air quickly soaked into their uniforms as the heat made them sweat uncomfortably, even over the short distance. The tree before them had partially fallen, tangling the shuttle in its torn-up roots, but it was still accessible.

"Doesn't look like there's anything left worth salvaging," Trip commented, eyeing the torn-off remains of one of the engines, "do you think anyone could survive a landing like this?"

"There's one way to find out," Archer replied, already keying in the code to open the hatch.

Instead of the controlled lowering Archer had expected, the hatch simply dropped open, slamming into the ground with a dull thump – Archer would have been crushed if Trip had not reacted in time and yanked him out of the way.

"Thanks," Archer said, breathlessly, "appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Trip replied, as he stepped up onto the ramp, "Malcolm? Are you in here?"

"Commander...?" the British accented voice was weak, but unmistakeably familiar.

"Jon! Over here!"

Archer scrambled into the shuttle, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. All of the systems were offline, and the only light came from a small fire that was burning in what remained of the navigational console. Trip was on his knees beside the console, and as he crossed the small space, Archer realised that Reed was lying on the floor, pinned down by a metal beam that had trapped his right leg and side beneath the console.

"Malcolm! Thank God! Are you alright?"

"I've been... better..." the lieutenant croaked, in a vain attempt at levity, "sir, it's good to see you..."

"Let's see if we can get this thing off you..."

Archer glanced around, and eventually found a twisted length of support beam long enough to use as a lever. Trip positioned himself ready to pull Reed free as soon as the weight was lifted.

"Ready?" Arched asked, as Trip nodded in assent, "Three... two... one!"

On that command, Archer put all of his strength into a single upwards shove on his improvised lever. With a creak of protest the beam lifted, and Trip wrenched Reed out from underneath the hefty weight.

"Clear!" Trip called, and Archer dropped the lever in relief, allowing the metal to crash down harmlessly onto the deck plates. Two quick strides took him to Reed's side, crouching opposite to Trip.

"How bad is it, Malcolm?" Archer asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Just a bit battered, sir," came the slightly evasive reply, "I'll be fine... where is it? Where is Tai'chu'un?"

"Tai-what?" Trip asked, surprised.

"Tai'chu'un," Reed repeated, "That was its name. The creature. Tai'chu'un."

"We don't know," Archer responded, resting a comforting hand on Reed's shoulder, "can you walk? We need to get you out of here."

"Yes, I... I think so..."

"Come on then," Trip reached out a hand, helping the other man to his feet, and supporting him when he wavered slightly, "lean on me. It's not far to the other shuttle."

Archer waited for Trip's nod that they were ready to go, and he stepped down the ramp, into the tropical humidity. He took a few steps forward, and then frowned.

"Trip," he said, his voice filled with trepidation, "where's the shuttle?"

"What do you mean, 'where's the shuttle'?" Trip echoed, disbelieving, "It's right... over... there..."

The engineer trailed off. The second shuttle, their only means of escape, was nowhere to be seen.


	11. Chapter 11

"It can't have just vanished!"

Archer took a few steps forward; there was a clear indentation on the ground where the shuttle had been, but the vessel itself was gone. It had, indeed, disappeared into thin air. Archer found himself walking forward into the vacant space with hands outstretched, as if he might suddenly encounter a wall of metal indicating the presence of an invisible shuttle. However, there was nothing there, and he turned around in amazement.

"It couldn't have taken off – we'd have heard it!" Trip's tone and expression mirrored Archer's own stunned shock.

"That was our only way off the planet," Archer said, aloud, reaching for his communicator; "Archer to _Enterprise – Enterprise,_ please respond."

They waited a long moment, but there was no reply. Archer shook his head; "Our signal's being blocked – seems to me that someone doesn't want us to leave..."

"We probably won't have to wait long before T'Pol decides to send another shuttle after us," Trip said, optimistically, "We can salvage a few supplies from the other shuttle, make camp and wait for rescue."

Agreeing that this seemed like their only option for now, Archer turned to head back towards the crashed 'pod, but in the light of day he caught his first proper look at Reed. The lieutenant had a nasty wound above his right eye, which was badly swollen and still oozing blood in a trickle down the side of his face. He had a split lip, but it was the awkward way he was standing supported by Trip that had caught Archer's concern – that, and the red stain slowly spreading across the right-hand side of his uniform jacket.

"Shit, Malcolm – you're bleeding!"

Trip jerked his head around to look at the lieutenant, who grimaced under the scrutiny. The engineer soon saw what had alerted the captain, and, unhooking Reed's arm from around his shoulders, he lowered him gently to the ground, leaning him against a convenient moss-covered boulder in a semi-reclined position.

"We need to treat this as best we can," Archer said, authoritatively, "all sorts of bacteria could thrive in an environment like this... Trip, start gathering supplies from the shuttle, whatever you can salvage. Our priorities are water, shelter and food."

"I'm on it, captain," Trip complied, shrugging out of his jacket and handing over his emergency kit, "here, you might need this..."

"Thanks, Trip," Archer took the extra supplies, as the engineer headed off in the direction of the wrecked shuttle.

Archer stole a quick glance in the other direction, disappointed, but not surprised, to see that the other shuttle had failed to miraculously reappear. Putting that element of their predicament to one side for now, he turned his attention on Malcolm. The armoury officer had closed his eyes, his breathing rough and ragged. Archer winced in sympathy. The lieutenant had been having a really rough time over the past couple of days. He reached forward, unzipped Reed's jacket, and pulled the fabric of his shirt to one side. He could not prevent a hiss of breath escaping through his clenched teeth as he observed the ragged wound – a large gash, approximately eight inches long, was torn into the flesh of Reed's right-hand side, across his waist between the hip and ribs. It looked like something had almost impaled the lieutenant, and the blood loss was becoming increasingly bad. Archer reminded himself that Reed was already suffering system shock and neurological trauma; concussion and blood loss on top made his condition critical.

Wasting no further time, Archer tore open their limited emergency supplies; from the basic field kit he treated Reed with a mild painkiller, reluctantly deciding to conserve the dosage, wondering if they might have to make it last some time. He cleaned the wound as best he could; muttering apologies under his breath every time Reed winced or gasped in response. Finally, he took sterile gauze and pressed it to the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Reed hissed in pain but made no protest, holding the pad in place himself as Archer tightly wound bandages around his middle, securing the dressing in place. He then cleaned the blood from Reed's face, gently cleansed the head wound, and then taped a dressing over it. The captain then picked up a medical scanner and passed it over the lieutenant, and then swore at it – the dampening field around the planet was clearly interfering even with the handheld scanners.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Reed murmured, trying to raise a ghost of a smile, "I'll be fine to walk out of here, sir."

"Stay put for now, Malcolm," Archer told him, gently, "seems we've nowhere to go at the moment... save your strength. I'm sure _Enterprise_ will send help soon."

"Let's hope so," came the slightly slurred reply, "sir, I... I feel..."

"Stay with me, Malcolm, that's an order!" Archer snapped out, but to no avail.

Reed's eyes rolled upwards and he slumped back against the rock. Archer reached out quickly, checking for a pulse; it was there, weak and irregular, but still there. The captain sighed, gently patted Reed's shoulder, and stood up slowly.

While he had been tending to his wounded officer, Trip had been stripping out the interior of the shuttle for anything useful, scattering even more debris around the crash site. Archer picked through some of it, scowling at their meagre supplies as he began to pack some things into a couple of bags. He had no intention of going anywhere, but he had no desire to be caught short if they suddenly had to flee this place, especially as they did not know if there was any indigenous life, intelligent, dangerous, or otherwise.

"What have we got?" Archer enquired, glancing up as Trip exited the shuttle with a small box of tools and supplies.

"Not enough of anything to last us very long," Trip answered, gloomily, "three days of clean water and rations, a few medical supplies, couple of spare phasers, communicators, tricorders – not that they're of any use. All of the stuff I brought was in the other shuttle – this one's only carrying the standard kit, and most of that's been destroyed in the crash."

"We'll make use of what we can," Archer sighed, "We should probably light a fire... we don't need the warmth but it will at least give us light when it gets dark, it'll be a useful beacon for any rescue party, and it might scare off any dangerous animals that could be lurking..."

"Agreed," Trip nodded, "I'll gather some wood... How's Malcolm?"

"Not good," Archer shook his head, "he's lost a lot of blood, he's got a serious concussion from the looks of things, and he's still weak from being attacked by that... what did he call it?"

"Tai'chu'un."

"Yeah, that."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Malcolm's a fighter," sighed Archer, "so I hope so, Trip. I'm also hoping T'Pol's going to realise pretty soon that there's a problem and send someone after us..."

"Me too, Jon – let's hope she decides it's the logical thing to do!"


	12. Chapter 12

Night fell slowly over the tropical forest, as the largest sun set first, quickly followed by the much smaller sun. As the shadows lengthened, Archer's hopes of rescue faded slightly; without reliable sensors, any search party would have to be recalled and postponed until daylight, as they would be relying as much on their visual searches as their instruments. He said as much to Trip, who tried to lighten the mood.

"Sorry Jon – no coffee this time around."

"Any bourbon?"

"Bourbon?" Trip pretended to look surprised, "why would there be bourbon?"

"I know you keep some stowed somewhere on all of the shuttles. Ensign Mayweather once spent his entire off-duty rota searching shuttlepod two for the supply but he couldn't find it. He swears you keep it inside the impulse engine."

Trip grumbled something, but reached around, rooting in one of the boxes, producing a familiar brown bottle.

"My supplies are dwindling," he groused, but nonetheless unscrewed the cap.

He took a deep swig from the bottle, and then handed it to Archer, who similarly took a long swallow. The fiery liquid burned its way down his throat and sent a warming sensation through his body that was much more welcome than the sticky, tropical humidly. There was a soft laugh, as a dry voice said; "Please sir – can I have some?"

Archer glanced up and smiled his first genuine smile for several hours.

"Good to see you back amongst the land of the living, Malcolm," he commented, observing the younger man's pallor and pinched, pained expression, "sorry, I don't think this would do your concussion much good... how about some painkillers instead?"

"I'd... I'd settle for that," Reed agreed, quietly.

It was the closest Archer had ever heard the Brit come to asking for help, and he simply watched as Trip quickly administered a dosage from the hypospray. Reed's expression softened slightly as the pain eased, but it was clear he was still in a great deal of discomfort; by the light of the fire, Archer could see spots of blood soaking through the bandage around his head.

"How are you feeling, Malcolm?"

"I'll be fine, sir," came the soft, stoic reply, "no sign of rescue yet?"

"None – they'll probably have to wait until morning now," Archer shrugged, his tone deliberately light and casual, "looks like we're camping here for the night."

"Not exactly shore leave," Trip yawned, glancing up at the clear night sky, "too muggy, for a start..."

"Reminds me of where my parents live, in Malaysia," Reed quirked a half-smile, as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, "too hot for me..."

Archer glanced up as something flew overhead, making a high-pitched chirping noise – some sort of night bird, he thought. He shuffled a little closer to the fire, reaching for a ration pack.

"We all need to eat something," he said, passing one to Malcolm, who paled even more at the thought, "it'll help keep your strength up."

The lieutenant nodded, but did not seem enthusiastic. By the time Archer and Trip had finished theirs, Reed had set his aside, having consumed barely a quarter of it, and had fallen into a fitful doze. He was still leaning against a mossy boulder; Trip had stretched himself out on the ground to Reed's left, with the shuttle immediately behind him, while Archer sat opposite to Reed, with the fire to his right. He glanced across at Trip, who yawned widely.

"Get some sleep, Trip," Archer told him, "I'll take first watch. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

"You're on," the engineer drawled, not needing to be told twice.

Pillowing his head on an emergency blanket, Trip was soon snoring softly. Archer leaned back against the tree trunk behind him, cradling a phaser in his right hand and wondering what the hell they were going to do come morning if the _Enterprise_ did not send rescue.

The coming of night did not bring any relief from the hot humidity of the day; if anything, the air felt thicker and damper than it had before. There was no breeze to speak of, but the night was alive with insects chirping and animals scurrying about in the undergrowth. The camp fire popped and crackled as it burned through the damp wood that kept it fuelled. There was little light beyond the glow of the fire, the distant stars, and a couple of lanterns Trip had located in the shuttle's emergency supplies. Reed, who had been dozing fitfully, stirred, and suppressed a groan as pain lanced through his side. He shifted uncomfortably, pressing his hand to the wound in an effort to relieve it; the bandages felt damp beneath his shirt, though whether this was from sweat or blood loss, he could not tell.

For a moment, he stared up at the stars, trying to get his ragged breathing under control. The air was so thick it was almost choking, the hot humidity unbearable. He focussed on the stars, fancying that one of them might be light of Earth's sun, though he knew it unlikely. They were a very long way from home.

He licked his dry, parched lips, and wondered how much water they had left. He desperately wanted a drink, but he was well aware that if it came to a matter of survival over a long term, his chances were extremely low. He would not waste valuable rations by consuming them when the other two might need them more than he.

Hot pain lanced through his side again and he gritted his teeth as he applied further pressure, willing it to subside. His head looped in nauseating surges, throbbing in time with the deep laceration at his waist, and he gasped in a few quick breaths, trying to ease himself away from the rock – if he was going to be sick, he did not want to do it anywhere near the campsite. However, a strong but gentle hand grasped his arm, as a familiar Southern voice drawled; "Where do you think you're going?"

Reed could not answer, but gestured towards the trees, and Trip's eyes widened slightly in understanding.

"Ah! Oh – okay then – here..."

Trip held out a hand and pulled Reed to his feet; once upright, the lieutenant staggered forwards and disappeared behind a tree. Trip winced in sympathy at the sounds of retching. Once he was sure Reed had finished, Trip stepped forwards, and found the other man leaning against a tree for support, eyes closed, shaking like a leaf in the wind, one hand clamped firmly to his side. Trip made a sympathetic noise, reached out, and took him by the shoulders, steadying him.

"Come on," he said, gently, "let's get you lying down – time for more painkillers, I reckon."

"Sounds lovely," Reed croaked, opening his eyes, "ugh. Sorry."

Trip offered him a supportive smile, and then guided him back to their makeshift camp. Archer was fast asleep by the fire, and Reed was relieved that the captain had not been woken. Trip eased him down to sit beside the fire, and this time Reed could not prevent a yelp of pain escaping him as his side flared agonisingly. Hurriedly, Trip grabbed a blanket, folded it into a makeshift pillow, and then eased Reed back gently, until he was lying down. Trip then fetched a lantern and the medical kit.

"I think we'd best check the dressing, Mal," he said, softly, "I'll give you something for the pain first – just a small dose I'm afraid, there's not much left."

"I understand, sir," Reed whispered back, his voice tight with pain.

Trip laughed softly; "You know damn well that you can call me 'Trip'."

"Yes, sir, Trip, sir."

With a snort, Trip was relieved that at least his friend's sense of humour was still intact. He still remembered the first time Reed had made a joke at his expense. He'd nearly fallen down a vertical Jeffries tube in shock. He offered Reed a grin as he delivered the injection of analgesics. His smile faded, however, when he lifted Reed's shirt, revealing the blood-soaked bandages underneath.

"Aw hell, Mal," he murmured, "what did this?"

"The support strut that was pinning me down," Reed replied, his voice sounding vague and distant, "I couldn't feel it, at first..."

He trailed off, and then bit back a cry as Trip carefully peeled back the bandages. The edges of the wound were raw and puckered, weeping with a mixture of blood and pus. The skin around the injury was an angry red, and hot to the touch. Trip swore long and low under his breath.

"It's infected, isn't it?" Reed's tone was resigned.

"Looks that way," sighed Trip; "oh, God, Malcolm – when are you going to catch a break?"

"I'd been wondering that myself," Reed replied, with a mirthless laugh, "don't worry about it, Trip – there's not a lot that can be done about it now."

Trip shook his head, and set to work re-bandaging the ugly wound. If the creature - Tai'chu'un – had not injured so many of the security personnel during its escape, Dr Phlox would have been available to come with them on this mission, and then at least Malcolm would have the benefit of a skilled physician... then again, if it weren't for Tai'chu'un, they wouldn't be in this mess... he shook himself out of his thoughts when Reed could not suppress a groan of pain.

"I'm sorry," Trip apologised, "I'm done... here; you really need to drink something."

"I'm not thirsty," Reid lied, but Trip saw straight through it.

"You're sick and you're probably running a fever – you need to stay hydrated," the engineer insisted, in a low voice, "don't make me wake Jon and get him to order you..."

Reed gave him a half-hearted glare, but accepted the proffered bottle of water. He sipped at it carefully, and then handed it back.

"We need to conserve our supplies," he reminded Trip when the engineer was about to protest, "Just in case..."

He did not finish the thought, as Trip sat down next to him, one hand resting casually on Reed's shoulder, as the engineer looked up to the sky.

" _Enterprise_ will come for us," Trip assured him, quietly, "you'll see. Try to get some sleep, Mal. I'll keep watch."

Reed nodded, and closed his eyes, soon falling into a light, feverish doze, wondering if help really would arrive come morning.


	13. Chapter 13

The night seemed interminably long, but eventually the twin suns began to rise. Reed awoke with a nauseated feeling and a sense of vague confusion; his bed was distinctly uncomfortable, and he must have slept in a strange position because there was a tight, burning cramp in his right side... He groaned softly to himself, wondering why he felt so hot and sick.

"Malcolm?"

He squinted upwards, trying to focus his blurry vision; "Captain?"

"Good to see you awake, lieutenant," Archer's face became clear.

That clarity brought with it recollection, and Reed swiftly realised that it had not been some horrible nightmare as a pain lanced through his abdomen and he groaned aloud, trying to curl in on himself to escape the hurt.

"Steady, Malcolm..." Archer's voice was gentle, as he felt the cool press of a hypospray against his neck, a soft hiss, and then the pain began to ebb away slightly, now more of a nagging ache than a raging torment; "you're running quite a fever. This should help."

There was another injection, and Reed managed to draw in enough breath to murmur; "Thank you, sir."

Archer simply smiled reassuringly in response, as Reed gingerly pulled himself upright, sitting back against a boulder. He kept his hand pressed to his side; despite the medication, every breath he drew in was an exercise in pain management and even the exertion of sitting up had left him breathless and shaking with fatigue. He could see concern in Archer's expressive brown eyes and he glanced away quickly, uncomfortable that he should merit such consideration.

"Do you feel like eating something?" Archer asked, conversationally, "All we've got is dry ration packs I'm afraid..."

"Not right now, thank you, sir," Reed declined politely, feeling queasy again at just the thought, "how much water do we have left?"

"Three bottles," Archer replied, picking one up, "here – drink some. If we're here for much longer I'm going to go looking for a water source. Trip found some purification tablets in the supplies kit."

Reed could not find the strength of will to protest as he accepted the bottle and took a mouthful. His hand shook, and he quickly handed the bottle back for fear of dropping it. Archer, however, had other ideas, pressing the bottle back into his hands and holding it for him as the captain helped the lieutenant to take another drink.

Too spent to speak, Reed slumped back against the rock, cursing his own bad luck and his weakness, as Trip appeared from within the wrecked shuttle, wiping oily hands on his trouser legs.

"I've finally managed to activate the emergency beacon," the engineer reported, sounding pleased with himself as he dropped heavily onto the ground beside Reed, leaning against the rock with him in a companionable manner; "pretty much everything's smashed but I've managed to rebuild the short-distance beacon – if _Enterprise_ is sending down shuttles to look for us, they should at least be able to locate our signal now."

"Good work, Trip," Archer said, approvingly, "what's the range of the beacon?"

"A couple of hundred kilometres, give or take," Trip shrugged, "they might not pick it up straight away, but they should be able to... hey... what the hell?"

Trip broke off as a strange tingling sensation swept over him, and he found himself unable to move. At first, he thought he'd sat on an alien ant colony as the itchy feeling encompassed him, but then lights began to dance in front of his eyes. He could see a shimmering, sparkling field enveloping Archer and Reed as well.

 _It's a transporter beam¸_ his mind realised, even as the trees around him faded from sight, _but it sure as hell ain't the Enterprise..._

They materialised in a chamber, Archer kneeling on the floor, as both Trip and Reed went sprawling backwards, abruptly deprived of the support of the rock they had been leaning against. Trip rolled and sat up; Reed stayed down, either unconscious or simply too exhausted to move.

"What the hell was that?" Archer was the first to find his voice.

"Transporter beam," Trip replied, matter-of-factly, "must have been triggered when I set off the emergency beacon; more to the point, where the hell are we?"

They looked around, taking in their surroundings. They were in a large, plain chamber – the walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of a uniform material – Archer immediately recognised the opalescent white stone he had previously seen on the cold, grey planet prison of Tai'chu'un. He was relieved to see, at the far end of the chamber, Shuttlepod Two was waiting, powered down and apparently undamaged.

"Well, I'll be damned," Trip murmured, staring at the shuttle, "whoever they are, they've got a hell of a lot of power to be able to transport an entire shuttlepod!"

"Which begs the further questions, who are they, and how do we get out of here?" Archer took a few paces towards the shuttle, and then turned around again; "I don't see any doors or windows in this place, do you?"

"The walls look like solid stone," Trip observed, "are we in some kind of prison?"

"It would be odd to put us in a prison, and leave us with our phasers," Archer pointed out, as he crossed the space between them to crouch beside Reed, "unless our captors know we can't do them any harm with our weapons."

Gently, Archer rolled Reed onto his back, his chest tightening with a knot of sympathy as the younger man groaned and muttered incoherently. The air in their strange prison was cooler and more comfortable than the tropical heat, but even so, Archer could see a thin sheet of sweat on Reed's pallid face, and he could feel the warmth radiating from him as the captain gently placed the back of his hand against Reed's face. The armoury officer stirred slightly, but did not awaken.

"He's burning up," the worry was evident in Trip's tone, as he rested his hand on Reed's shoulder, "I'll see if I can grab some supplies from the shuttle – I definitely packed more medical kits!"

Trip shot to his feet and ran towards the shuttle, returning with a field medical kit and three bottles of water. He concentrated on selecting and administering painkillers and antibiotics, while Archer removed the soiled bandages, hissing in dismay when he saw the festering wound. Stirred by their careful ministrations, Reed groaned wordlessly, trying to pull away.

"Steady, Mal," Trip soothed the injured lieutenant as he slowly blinked his eyes open, "you're gonna be okay..."

"Where are we?" Reed squinted around their bright white prison, confused.

"We seem to have been transported here – along with Shuttlepod Two," Archer replied, as he tied off the bandage as tightly as he dared, "this rock – it looks the same as the stones we found before."

"Jon!" Trip's voice rang out in alarm, as the engineer bolted to his feet, drawing his phase pistol in one fluid motion and dropping into a defensive crouch, "Look out!"

Archer whipped around, drawing his own weapon but remaining crouched protectively beside Reed. A swirling, glittering cloud of mist was drifting slowly downwards from the ceiling, barely visible against the glowing white stones. The silvery smoke hung in the air for a long moment, and Archer cleared his throat, recalling the name Reed had put to the entity that had possessed him.

"Tai'chu'un?" he said, uncertainly, "What do you want – why have you brought us here?"

The cloudy form swirled around itself for a few moments, and then began to take a form; Archer was surprised to see the outline of a human face staring back at him from the cloud, vaporous but distinct.

 _I am not Tai'chu'un!_

The voice reverberated around the chamber with a depth and authority that struck Archer to his very core. The entity before him had clearly spoken, but the ghostly face did not move; its lips did not form the words, but they nonetheless echoed through Archer like a painful blow.

 _I am K'ta'tur'ai'sen of the T'ch'ra'kai... how dare you speak the name of a traitor in my presence?_

The words were painful in Archer's mind; behind him, he heard Trip gasp and drop his phase pistol. The weapon clattered to the floor as Archer blinked stars from his eyes. Without realising it, he had dropped to his hands and knees, as if forced down by the weight of the words.

"My... my name is Captain Jonathan Archer, of the starship _Enterprise_ ," he gasped, forcing himself to stand, "We are peaceful explorers... we know nothing of the T'ch'ra'kai. We were... attacked, by Tai'chu'un..."

 _You are not of the twelve realms. You should not be here._

"No... We are from a planet called Earth, many light years away," Archer panted, grasping his head, "please – your speech is painful to us – we are not telepaths..."

There was a long moment, and then the shimmering cloud coalesced, and Archer found himself face to face with a semi-solid form; humanoid, but lacking in any real characteristics, like a mask. This time, when the creature spoke, it did so through its featureless white lips, breathing tiny tendrils of smoke as its form constantly rippled and shifted, like mist on water.

"Verbal speech is preferred?" it said, "This is your language?"

"Yes," Archer nodded, in relief, "thank you... you are... K'ta..."

"K'ta'tur'ai'sen of the T'ch'ra'kai, watcher of the twelfth planet, protector of the K'tai'tun and guardian of this star realm. Why have you come here?"

"We are explorers," Archer replied, "we detected a signal from a nearby planet. We thought it was a distress call; we responded, but we found only a dead planet and Tai'chu'un. He broke free of his prison, attacked a member of my crew, and brought us here."

"The beacon was a warning. To stay away. You disobeyed."

"We did not understand. We do not know your language," Archer replied, carefully, "We thought someone was in trouble and we wished to help."

"Why?"

"Because..." Archer paused, considering his response, "because life is sacred to my people and we will always seek to protect those weaker than ourselves and to help those who are in distress."

This seemed to be the correct response, as K'ta'tur'ai'sen paused for several moments. When it spoke again, it was in a gentler tone.

"You are a young race, yet you aspire to be watchers... even though you have not yet evolved beyond the physical form and you lack higher brain functions. Interesting..."

"Why have you imprisoned us here?"

"You trespassed upon the twelfth planet. Your technology was removed for study. This is how your language was learned. You were to be studied next but your beacon would have alerted your ship. I have brought you here to demand answers for your trespass upon the watch of K'ta'tur'ai'sen over the K'tai'tun!"

Archer was vaguely aware that Trip had moved closer, crouching beside Reed; the armoury officer was trying to sit up, and obviously wanted to speak. Trip supported the other man, cradling him in his arms as Reed spoke.

"K'ta'tur'ai'sen," he gasped, clutching his side and panting for breath, "I was... host... to Tai'chu'un... for a brief period of time. He... he took over my body and shared in... in my mind... he means to destroy you... and the rest of the T'ch'ra'kai... and all of your watched... _ah't'vrai cor-at ser'vei tu a l'a'n'trav su Horakk ah en K'tai'tun hol._ "

Archer jerked in surprise to hear the armoury officer speak in an alien tongue. The misty form before them shimmered and Archer felt a deep wave of mixed emotions – anger, grief, pain, and several more he could not identify. The sensation was gone as soon as it had come, leaving him breathless and washed out.

"I will deal with Tai'chu'un," the figure declared, at long last, "Tai'chu'un has broken every vow of the T'ch'ra'kai... and I am the last. It is my final duty as watcher."

"Wait!" Archer cried, as the figure began to dissolve, "What are you going to do?"

 _I will destroy Tai'chu'un. I am the last. It will be the end of the T'ch'ra'kai. I will release you from this place. Return to your people. You are not needed here._

The voice reverberated through the chamber like thunder, and Archer gritted his teeth against the pain, willing himself to speak; "But we wish to learn more about you!"

 _You are too young. You will learn in time. Be content with what this one knows. Now leave._

Archer could not protest further; an itching tingling took a hold of his entire body, and he could only watch as the chamber dissolved into the darkness of the transporter beam.


	14. Chapter 14

They re-materialised back in the tropical rainforest; the wrecked remains of the shuttle still in sight, but this time with Shuttlepod Two waiting reassuringly nearby. Archer wasted no time; glancing up at the sky, he could see two thick white clouds shimmering and glowing, rapidly approaching one another.

"I think we need to get out of here!"

"Agreed!" Trip hurriedly helped Reed to his feet, supporting him as the three of them ran, stumbling into the waiting shuttlepod.

Archer was initiating the launch procedures even as Trip was helping Malcolm into a chair, strapping down the restraints. Pulling on his own belts, Trip signalled the affirmative to Archer, and the Captain began to pilot the shuttle upwards. A crackle of static washed over the communications channel, and he immediately recognised Hoshi's voice, urgently calling for a report.

" _Enterprise,_ this is Archer – we're on our way back. Have Dr. Phlox standing by. Monitor our approach but keep full sensor sweeps active on the planet's surface – something's happening down here! Standby for my orders. Archer out."

Slapping the channel closed, Archer switched his attention back to piloting. Trip risked a glance out of the window; as they cleared the strange, glittery cloud cover, it looked as through a storm were raging; flashed of lightning and tumultuous winds buffeted the shuttlepod, but then they were clear, flying in open space. In no time at all, though it seemed to take an age to Trip, they were safely stowed in the _Enterprise's_ shuttle bay. Archer was keying open the hatch before Trip had even managed to remove his restraints.

"Get Malcolm to sickbay – stay there with him," Archer ordered the engineer, "I'll be on the bridge – I want to know what's happening down there!"

"Aye, sir," Trip could only nod obediently, as Archer disappeared through the hatch.

Moments later, Phlox appeared, accompanied by two orderlies carrying a gurney between them. Trip could only watch as Reed was lifted carefully, and carried back to the sickbay.

"T'Pol! Report!" Archer did not waste time with pleasantries as he stepped onto the bridge.

"We are detecting high levels of electromagnetic activity across the planet's atmosphere, Captain," the Vulcan responded, from her station, "I am detecting strong meteorological effects and geological disturbances, including earthquakes and tidal waves."

"They're tearing the planet apart," Archer realised, "Travis, take us back to a safe distance and T'Pol, keep those scanners running."

"Captain, it would assist if I knew the cause of these phenomena – there were no indications of any disturbances prior to your communication."

"I wish I knew, T'Pol," Archer replied, in a heartfelt way, "but I think we're witnessing the final battle between two very old enemies..."

The bridge crew watched in stunned silence as storms raged across the skies of the planet on the view screen; it lasted for several minutes, and then, as suddenly as it had started, it was gone again – the atmosphere cleared, and Archer was once again looking at a green sphere, hanging peacefully in orbit around the binary stars.

"Life signs?" Archer asked, quietly, after a long moment.

"The planet has suffered significant ecological damage, captain," T'Pol reported, "however; I am detecting a multitude of life signs indicating a rich bio-diversity of life remaining upon the planet."

"Any sign of the T'ch'ra'kai?"

"As they were never detected on our scanners it is impossible to say, captain – however, from your own observations it is logical to say that the entities known as the T'ch'ra'kai have been destroyed."

"Captain," Hoshi's voice cut in, sounding puzzled, "I'm receiving a transmission – it's a data stream. It appears to be language, history, star charts..."

"Coming from the planet?" Archer queried.

"No sir," Hoshi turned a confused frown in his direction, "it's coming from sickbay..."

"T'Pol, you have the con!"

* * *

Archer strode into sickbay and was stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw – Reed was standing at one of the consoles, his eyes fixed on the screen, typing at lightning speed, entering data faster than Archer could even read it. Reed's face was ashen, with dark circles under his hollow eyes; Archer could see him swaying on his feet as he stubbornly fought to remain standing.

"Lieutenant? What are you doing?"

"He'd been like this for the last few minutes, cap'n," Trip spoke up, getting up from the chair he had been sitting in, "he's refused to let the doc treat him until he's finished..."

"I have tried sedating the lieutenant, but it appeared to have no effect," Phlox sounded vaguely surprised as he stood beside Reed, scanner in hand, "according to my readings, Lt. Reed should be unconscious. He is running a high fever, coupled with serious blood loss and a concussion. I do not know how he is doing what he is doing but it is apparent he cannot stop."

"Malcolm?" Archer crossed the short distance between them to rest his hand on the armoury officer's arm; he could feel the heat radiating from the younger man, even through his uniform, "What are you doing? You need to let the doctor treat you."

Reed did not respond; Archer turned his attention briefly to the monitor, and then activated the communications channel.

"Archer to Ensign Sato; come in please."

 _"_ _Sato here, Captain."_

"Hoshi, are you still receiving the data transmission?"

 _"_ _Yes, Captain – it's quite extensive, it's going to take me some time to go through it all."_

"What does it contain?"

 _"_ _Everything,"_ Hoshi sounded excited, _"I'm getting the foundations of over a dozen languages, detailed descriptions of several civilisations, history notes, star charts, flora and fauna, scientific data – there's too much here to describe. Where is it all coming from?"_

"It appears to be coming from Lt. Reed," Archer could not keep the amazement out of his voice, "start working on it, Hoshi. Farm it out to other departments if you have to. I want to know exactly what we're getting here. Archer out."

He closed the channel and glanced back at Reed; sweat beaded on the younger man's brow and his breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, but his hands still flew across the console, entering data at a speed no human should have been able to process. Then, abruptly, he stopped, and his pain-filled eyes met Archer's gaze at last.

"Compliments of the T'ch'ra'kai," Reed smiled, weakly.

With a soft sigh, his eyes closed involuntarily as his legs gave way; both Archer and Phlox lunged to catch him, only just preventing Reed from collapsing into a heap on the deck.

"Get him onto the bed," Phlox ordered, already reaching for surgical gloves, "I must operate immediately to remove the necrotic tissue around the wound."

Archer did not need telling twice; he carefully lifted Reed, cradling him and then laying him gently on the bed. Phlox nodded to him and to Trip, his eyes serious.

"I must ask you to leave, gentlemen. I will contact you as soon as I have any news."

"I'd rather stay," Trip began to protest, but Archer waved his hand warningly.

"Come on, Trip. We need to let the doctor work. Look after him, doc."

"I will, captain. I will."


	15. Chapter 15

It was an agonising eight hours before Phlox reported to Archer that Reed had survived the surgery and ought to make a full recovery. It was a further seventeen hours before the doctor called again to report that the lieutenant had regained consciousness.

Feeling all the better for some sleep, a hot shower and a clean uniform, Archer practically ran down to the sickbay. He came through the doors and was immediately greeted by Phlox, who held up a cautionary hand.

"He is still very weak, captain," the doctor warned, "his system is fighting the infection but it will be a few days before I can release him. He needs to rest – please keep it brief."

"Understood," Archer flashed a quick smile, "thanks, doc."

"Any time, captain, any time..."

The doctor bustled away to give them some privacy, as Archer approached the occupied bed quietly. Reed's eyes were closed; his face was still deathly pale, but there was a hint on colour to his lips at last, and the hand that rested on his chest atop the blanket covering him was relaxed as he breathed evenly and deeply. Archer managed a small smile as Reed's eyes opened slowly, alerted by his soft footsteps.

"Captain..." Reed made as if to rise, but Archer gently pushed him back down onto semi-reclined bed, pulling up a chair as he did so.

"Take it easy, Malcolm," Archer told him, "how are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you, sir – I should be back on duty in a day or so."

"Wait and see what the doctor says first," Archer laughed, amused, "Malcolm, there's something I need to know. When we brought you back to the ship, you entered a large amount of data into the computer. Do you remember?"

"Not much, sir," Reed admitted, quietly, "only fragments, really – the T'ch'ra'kai language, I think – odd things. Things Tai'chu'un and K'ta'tur'ai'sen told me..."

"They told you these things?"

"Well..." Reed's face screwed up in thought, "not so much told me as... sort of... left in my head. It's hard to explain. They both seemed to think I had a... 'receptive mind'... But I had to get it down into the computer – my brain wasn't big enough to hold all of the information for very long. K'ta'tur'ai'sen was surprised I could understand and retain any of it at all."

"Hoshi thinks it's going to take several months to go through all of the data," Archer told him, with a grin, "she's doing her nut over the linguistics elements alone. There's an ensign in palaeontology who's threatening to resign her commission to move to a tropical area on just one of the planets you added to our database to spend the rest of her life studying it, and the two archaeologists on board almost came to blows over which of the historical T'ch'ra'kai sites we ought to schedule for investigation first. I'm getting requests from a dozen different departments to go to as many different places to explore sites of potential interest..."

He trailed off, realising that Reed was staring at him in shock.

"I... I had no idea there was so much..." he stammered.

"Don't worry about it," said Archer, reassuringly, "it's a fantastic boon to our database and it certainly warrants further study. I've contacted Starfleet and it's caused quite a buzz – we're transferring a copy of the data via subspace and they're going to launch a deep space exploratory vessel to come and investigate the area further."

"What about K'ta'tur'ai'sen and Tai'chu'un?" Reed asked, tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

"It... it seems that they destroyed themselves," Archer replied, regret evident in his tone, "Malcolm... When we were in K'ta'tur'ai'sen's chamber, you, you said something to it... Something that made it angry. What was it? What did you say?"

Reed frowned, thoughtfully; "I don't know, exactly - there's no direct translation... Only that Tai'chu'un was going to destroy all of the Watched in revenge for his imprisonment. The Watched are the various species the Watchers monitored... K'ta'tur'ai'sen could not allow that to happen, even at the cost of it's own existence..."

Archer nodded, and then held up his hand, stalling any further conversation as he saw Reed shiver slightly, clearly exhausted; "Okay. You need to get some rest, Malcolm. We'll talk more when you're feeling up to it, okay? Get some sleep."

"Aye sir," Reed replied, drowsily.

Archer relinquished his seat, and got to his feet. Phlox, obviously hearing the movement, returned from feeding one of his creatures.

"When are you planning to release him?" Archer asked, softly, indicating the sleeping lieutenant.

"In a day or two," Phlox replied, with a slight shrug, "Lieutenant Reed seems to dislike being confined to one place for very long so I imagine it will be sooner than I would like, but I will insist that he be kept off active duty until he has made a full recovery."

"I'll see what I can do, doc," Archer promised, "Thanks again."

"You are most welcome, captain," Phlox beamed.

Archer nodded, and headed to his quarters. He had several log entries to catch up on, but there was a flagged message from Hoshi flashing on his screen which caught his eye. He could not help but smile and shake his head when he saw the contents; it seemed that some part of Malcolm's mind, while imparting the T'ch'ra'kai information, had also decided that he should make and submit his mission report as well. While lengthy, it was written in the Lieutenant's usual brief and efficient manner; there was little reference to the injuries he had suffered or the experience of being possessed by an alien entity. Even when half dead and not in control of his own actions, Reed's sense of duty had won out and he had submitted his report to the captain as soon as he could.

Archer read the report in detail. He then read it for a second time. He then summoned his steward, ordered coffee, and drank it while reading the report for a third time. If he were even to believe half of what Reed had written, the T'ch'ra'kai had been a truly phenomenal race; millions of years old, the race of natural telepaths had evolved beyond physical form before human ancestors had crawled out of the primordial ooze. They had travelled the stars using host bodies, until only a dozen remained. Old beyond reckoning, this council of twelve had assumed the role of watching over the evolution of a dozen emerging planets, sworn to protect the growing life forms and watch their development from afar. It seemed each of the twelve had taken different approaches, which had caused discord and battles; the T'ch'ra'kai had imprisoned Tai'chu'un after the entity had destroyed the majority of the sentient life on his assigned planet following a war which had raged for decades. Tai'chu'un had declared the species unfit for survival and wished to re-create life on the planet using just a handful of survivors. The other T'ch'ra'kai had disagreed and imprisoned him in a tomb, casting him down for his actions, though it seemed some had been sympathetic to his way of thinking. As the highly advanced beings each took different paths, there were more disputes, with some wanting to intervene directly and others, like K'ta'tur'ai'sen, favouring a more distant, observational approach. Rather predictably, in Archer's view, the arguments had led to fighting, and the T'ch'ra'kai had wiped themselves out; some had been killed by mutual destruction, as with K'ta'tur'ai'sen and Tai'chu'un, while others had simply ended their own existence, choosing death over watching their chosen peoples constantly living, fighting, suffering and dying.

Archer sat back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes, considering the report once more. It was very detailed and cross-referenced a number of the data files that Reed had entered into the database. Archer simply did not have time to read them all; finally, he countersigned the report and entered it for final submission to Starfleet. He then called up a screen, and dictated his own report, a few short paragraphs confirming Reed's report to be accurate to the best of his knowledge, and was about to sign off, when he paused, considering his final step.

"Computer," he said, aloud, hearing the acknowledging chime, "begin recording..."

"Recording," the computer chirped, promptly.

Archer took a deep breath, and began; "In all of the excitement regarding the discovery of the T'ch'ra'kai, especially given the incredible amount of scientific, historical, linguistic and other data that we have been provided with, I think it is important to remember that Lt. Reed has acted above and beyond the call of duty in this matter. Despite suffering serious personal injury he risked his life to deliver this data, the value of which is incalculable when one considers the implications for the advancement of our mission and our developing relationships with other species. I will therefore be entering a formal commendation into his permanent record. End report."

The computer clicked off and Archer signed the report, submitted it, and swiftly entered the commendation he had promised. Reed would no doubt be embarrassed to receive it when he was released to his quarters, but Archer felt it was deserved.

With that, he got up, and decided to see if Trip was available – he really needed to know where the engineer kept those emergency supplies of Kentucky bourbon...

* * *

End.


End file.
